Breathe
by Sandfire Kat
Summary: Loss is defined as the sensation of grief one feels when they have lost something or someone of great value. But grief can mutate and transform into something deadly, something much more toxic. It can grow in size and swallow someone whole, changing them from the person they once were into someone of a polar body. How can you help someone move on when they don't even want to live?
1. Chapter 1

It was dark. The only sources of light that seeped into the room came from the moon that leaked through the blinded windows— that, and the small nightlight that was plugged into the far left wall. The clock on the bedside table showed that it was far past midnight, though the sun still had yet to come up and make its first appearance. It was frigid in the room, the temperature derived from not only the lack of sun, but also the season as well as the sound of blowing wind and the fainter sound of sleet could be heard through the walls of the building. The very noises of the weather swallowed up most of the excess noise in the bedroom, such as the ticking of the clock that hung over the stairs, or the small creaking of the floorboards throughout the home.

But the sleet and the snow didn't manage to stifle all of the surplus noises.

From the muted sense of quiet that the night brought with it, there was another small sound— one that barely made itself known in the first place. But sure enough, it managed to make itself known: a hushed sort of crying noise that was only amplified in its sharp contrast it held with its hiccupping squeaks and small gasps. The child nearest to the far wall, a child whose age was around nine or ten, was slowly roused by the sound. And their initial reaction came across as similar to the way that a person would react upon hearing the beeping drone of a smoke alarm: confusion that gradually grew into paranoia and fear.

The ten-year-old sat upright, the covers that were previously tucked tightly around his form rumpling off as he pushed himself upwards. His jet-black hair was tussled awkwardly this way and that, his eyes bleary from sleep as they narrowed, drilling through the dark room straight towards the spot in which the slight sound of crying was originating from. The way that he immediately looked straight to the source of the noise signaled that he had experienced such a wake-up call before. However such a fact didn't deter the way that he got up, the small boy quite literally throwing off his sheets and stumbling quickly down to the floor, barely reacting to the feeling of the freezing wood underneath his feet as he rushed forward.

Skirting around a haphazardly-strewn pile of books that had yet to be arranged into the new bookshelf being built beside them, the young boy made straight for the sobs, hurrying towards the other bed that was arranged inside of the room, worry and concern filling up the boy's expression at the sight of a small lump hidden underneath the covers. As he got closer, the sound of the soft crying got louder, and the ten-year-old reached over to peel away the comforter, fright and distress causing his movements to be quick. Both emotions were alive in the young child's voice as he spoke, words coming out laced with the two as he demanded an answer. "Hiro?" he asked. "Hiro, are you awake?"

Having been exposed now that the covers had been drawn backwards, the source of the muffed tears came in the form of another small boy, albeit younger of about four or five years. The young child was curled up into a tight ball, his head lowered as his far-messier black hair covered up most of his face, which led the older of the two to wonder whether or not the younger boy was actually conscious in his cries.

It certainly wouldn't be the first time that the young child had done such a thing, and the ten-year-old should know, since most nights it took place ended just like this: with him running out of bed and over to where the littler boy lay, ready and willing enough to try and see what the issue was. It had happened very frequently ever since the boy was three— which of course entailed the reason to the sudden change in ability to sleep. Their caretaker now — their Aunt — claimed that it was predictable for such a young toddler to do, and that he would most likely grow out of it soon. Hopefully. She never really was that confident in what she thought was best when it came to the ordeal surrounding the pair of them. Though she was certainly doing her best to tackle the recent situation.

Feeling a small pang in his heart, the older boy sat down lightly on the mattress, leaning over and shaking the shoulder of his younger brother. Again, he pressed further, looking concerned as he saw the state that the very young boy was in. Little shoulders shook in slight sobs, and as a hand was placed on the trembling form and the little one turned onto his back, the older could see that tears were making long track marks down the sides of his face. The tears had dyed the little one's eyes a slightly pink color, and the irritation seemed to only worsen as the three-year-old reached up to wipe roughly at his face. The older sat up a little bit straighter as the younger opened his mouth to say something, but all that got out was a small, plaintive whine of his name. "Tadashi."

Tadashi gave a small smile, though it was slightly deflated and sad as he looked down at Hiro. "It's late," he said, looking over towards the clock on the wall as he said this. But the dark gloom around them made it too difficult to try and see where the two hands were pointing exactly. He looked back, once again looking concerned at the sight of his younger brother. "What's wrong? What happened?" Reaching up to brush aside some of the hair that was still hanging over Hiro's face, Tadashi tried again a little reluctantly, still a bit unsure: "Are you awake?"

The little boy sniffed, still rubbing at his eyes groggily. "My head hurts," he whined, his voice sad and punctured in sorrowful hiccups. Tadashi frowned, reaching up and laying a hand over the little one's forehead. Sure enough, it was slightly warmer than what was usually normal. Maybe he had adopted a fever sometime during the night? "My head hurts." Hiro repeated, a little bit louder with this one, as if he wasn't sure that Tadashi had heard him the first time around. "I don't feel good."

"I think you're sick, little brother," Tadashi said, his voice noticeably softer now as he nodded once. He drew back his hand, letting it rest comfortingly on the little one's shoulder briefly. "I can go wake up Aunt Cass— she can give you some medicine to help make you feel better. Okay? I think that sounds pretty good." The only reaction that he got from the younger was another small sniffle, a little quieter than before but still prominent. The smile on Tadashi's face grew into a much more sympathetic one at this, and the ten-year-old reached up to gently pat his baby brother's head. "I'll go wake her up," he repeated, starting to get up from the edge of the bed. Aunt Cass had probably turned in a long time ago— but she would certainly be shooting right up to her feet at the mention that Hiro might be getting sick. Tadashi figured that she would probably get to be _too_ awake once he told her. She certainly had the tendency to—

A hand reached over to fist itself firmly in the shirt of the ten-year-old, Tadashi stilling with slight surprise as he was stopped halfway up to his feet. He turned and looked back to see the Hiro had gotten up into a sitting position, the little boy's teary expression fixed firmly onto his older brother as it adopted an almost angered look. "I don't want medicine," the younger said, his voice barbed as he kept a firm hold onto Tadashi's pajamas. His brown eyes were narrowed slightly as he frowned, his lips puckering out in that stubborn scowl that Tadashi knew probably too well by now.

It was all the ten-year-old could do not to sigh aloud. Instead he smiled more, reaching up and grabbing at the little one's wrist, prying off his tight hold and gently lowering Hiro's hand back down onto the bed. "Of course you do— don't be silly," he said lightly. "You need medicine to make you feel better, don't you? That's the point of having it around in the first place." Hiro locked his jaw backwards, looking frustrated. But even in the dark Tadashi could tell that the boy's eyes were feverishly bright; if he was already crying over the pain in his head now, it would only worsen if he wasn't given at least some children's painkillers. "Look, I'll be right back. I'll just go downstairs and—"

"No." The objection came faster this time from the little boy, and Tadashi was unable to withhold his sigh this time as he shook his head.

"Hiro, if you don't feel good, you have to take the medicine. I don't know what I should give you so I'll go get Aunt Cass. It might taste bad but would you rather have a-"

"I want you to stay," the little boy quipped, still looking frustrated as he said this, though his scowl did loosen slightly as he looked up at his older brother. Tadashi blinked rapidly, surprised at the sudden change in not only look but in tone as he well as he stuttered for a moment. Hiro's face fell at this, and when he repeated his words for the umpteenth time, his voice was much more reserved than before. "I want you to stay— I don't want you to go downstairs. I just want you to make me better and I don't want medicine." Though the boy was tired and whatever kind of illness he was experiencing seemed big enough to bring those tears in the first place, he seemed far more than sure of himself as he restated his words over and over again.

After the initial surprise left the boy's eyes, Tadashi melted— the boy always had the awful habit of being easily swayed by his younger brother. He glanced over to the stairs, sighing slightly as he bit down on his lower lip. But the inevitable occurred, and he grinned, nodding as he turned back to his baby brother. "Okay; fine," he said patiently, the virtue often being taken advantage of by Hiro more often than was probably needed. "I'll stay up here," he reasoned. "But only if you agree that when you get up tomorrow you'll have some medicine." The fever didn't seem that big to begin with at the moment. If this was what Hiro wanted, Tadashi found it okay enough to leave until morning. And besides: once Tadashi had gotten up, Hiro had stopped most of his crying.

The older turned, sitting back down to where he had been before and he watched as Hiro turned and lay back down on the bed, turning slowly to be on his side and curling his knees up to his chest with another sniff of his nose. Tadashi sighed softly at this, and he scooted closer, reaching over and drawing his hand comfortingly over the smaller child's hair. Gently of course, as to not upset his head further; but he still tried to offer as much comfort as he could to the young boy. It got quiet for a second, the only sound returning to be once more only the wind outside, accompanied every so often by a small sniffle or sigh from Hiro.

Until it was broken again.

"They aren't coming back, are they?" Tadashi stiffened at the question, turning and looking down at Hiro as he asked this. The child had a sullen look on his face, more tears glinting in the dim light of the room now as the topic was changed. A crease appeared over Tadashi's forehead, the ten-year-old waiting for a moment to see whether or not Hiro would turn and look his way. But the younger refused, staring instead off to the side instead as he reached up to scrub at his face again. He didn't offer elaboration on his question; he didn't need to. The meaning was clear as day, and a heavy weight settled over Tadashi as the boy leaned a little bit closer, looking pained.

"Is that what this is all about?" he asked.

Hiro didn't answer except to offer yet another snuffle.

He searched for something to say. It was more than obvious that any and all words to speak was suddenly evading the elder, and his eyes flickered over habitually to the photograph that he had put on the wall near his own bed— a picture of the two boys paired with their parents that they had taken what felt like years ago. A lump formed in the back of his throat, and suddenly the boy that usually had a kind response for everything was left grasping at straws. "Hiro, you can't-" He broke off, finding that whatever he was about to say would have undermined it all. He tried again. "You shouldn't…." But he trailed off from that as well, finding himself absolutely unable to finish any response.

But if such a thing was hard to do then, it became impossible with the next question that came along, coming across in the same small and saddened voice. "But you're going to stay…right?" Hiro mumbled out, voice much more subdued than it had been before; though it hadn't had much volume to it in the first place. Silence clogged up the room for what seemed like far too long. Tadashi started to open his mouth to speak, but it was obvious of the apparent weariness on the boy. Hiro had just now turned four— any other child as young as him would have taken the sudden disappearance of their parents merely as a simple stay away; it would be much easier in that sense if Hiro just assumed the least lethal option of their new situation. But Hiro was unlike any other four-year-old, and there very wasn't much that he didn't understand.

It hadn't been the first question to cause the thickness in his throat. The first question had a definite answer; not only was the first question something that could be explained and elaborated, but it was also one that Tadashi was very skilled in answering by now. Whether or not it had come in exactly the same form, the older of the two Hamada brothers had been the one to talk to the other mourners, taking most, if not all, of the painful questions that would otherwise cause Hiro to become more emotional than he had already been left in this wake. In the last few months he had become skilled in handling this breed of inquiry. 'Are you holding up okay?' 'You know that they loved you, right?' 'Are you feeling any better today?' 'Could you tell me what happened?' 'So what are you planning on now?' and even 'They're not coming back, are they?' were all topics he could swallow, albeit bitterly.

But this one?

"I'm-" Tadashi winced briefly as his voice came out slightly thicker than it normally was, the young boy pausing briefly to clear his throat before going on. "No, Hiro, no, of course I'm going to be here. Where else could I possibly go?" He studied the smaller child carefully, watching as his little brother closed his eyes with another snuffle, reaching up to brush at his eyes again as Tadashi reached over again to ruffle his hair as lightly as he could. "What happened to Mom and Dad is different," he went on, his voice gentler than it had been previously. "I'm not going to go anywhere for a really long time. I promise." Then he paused, lighting up slightly in order to offer the boy a small smile. "You know that I couldn't leave you alone to yourself, right?" the elder teased, a humorous lift coming to his voice now. When Hiro didn't reply exactly, the smile faded. "…You okay?" he murmured softly, concerned once more as he tilted his head to the side a little bit.

"My head hurts." Again came the rather frustrating little complaint.

But Tadashi just sighed, the relentless smile coming over his face again as he gave a nod. "Right," he hummed. "But you also said you didn't want medicine, you Knucklehead. So what do you want me to do?" He found himself waiting for Hiro to just repeat his phrase for the millionth time. Mostly when he woke up in such a way as this he got drowsy somewhere in the middle, half-awake and half-asleep as he mumbled out nonsense. Most of the times it was funny— back when they lived with their parents, Tadashi used to poke fun at the nocturnal habit of Hiro's. But the opportunity to laugh at it had been few and far between the past few months; recently it had taken on the trend of being less amusing and more saddening.

The little child paused for the briefest of seconds before rolling over onto his back, wriggling out his arms from underneath the covers and reaching out a little limply towards where Tadashi had seated himself, an imploring sort of pout pasted over his features. The elder sighed once more but smiled, shuffling over and laying down on the other side of the bed that had been assigned to be Hiro's when they had moved into Aunt Cass' home above her cafe. "C'mere then," he sighed lightly, Hiro already scooting over to be closer to his older brother. "I'm not sure how this'll help your head, though," he said, a mockingly-reproachful tone to his voice as he knew inwardly that all of this did not originate from any kid of real sickness.

Hiro didn't respond of course— the little kid was already falling asleep again. The tenseness that had shown in the boy's shoulders seemed near extinct now as the four-year-old curled up closer to the other, ducking his head down and letting out a small, shaky sigh. Tadashi wrapped his arm around his shoulders, giving him a reassuring embrace before letting go in order to curl up as well. It was far later than what was reasonable at this point— despite the fact that Tadashi was getting very skilled in having to get up in the early hours of the morning like this, it didn't do anything to cause the boy to be any less exhausted by the efforts.

Hiro tossed and turned at his side, and in the effort to try and help the younger to go back to sleep —they both had school in the morning— he asked softly: "Do you hear all that wind outside? I bet there's gonna be so much ice outside tomorrow. …I can't remember if you've been ice skating before, little brother; you might have been too young. But I bet we could try it sometime tomorrow with all this horrible weather." He rubbed Hiro's arm up and down soothingly, trying to get him to calm down enough to stop twisting around or sniffling and go back to sleep.

No response.

"Hiro? Hiro, did you hear me? ….Hiro? Are you listening to me? What are you doing? …Hiro! _Hiro_!"

The sudden shout caused a rush of surprise to shoot through Hiro, the boy jerking forwards at the yell and slamming his forehead against the glass window of the cafe. The thud caused dull pain to wrap around his head, the teenager groaning in the back of his throat as he reached up to rub at his temple with a sour look of discomfort. "Oh!" The voice came again, though this time it was much quieter now, softer than the previous snap. One eye closed in irritation, Hiro ducked his head down to his chest, an irritated grumble escaping from the corner of his lips. Aunt Cass, who had been busying herself behind the cash register, had straightened quickly at the shocked reaction from the younger, a guilty and slightly nervous frown on her face as she immediately shut up the machine, weaving back around towards him as she wrung her hands together in front of her. "I'm sorry! I didn't mean to…to scare you like that…"

"You didn't scare me," Hiro mumbled, wincing one last time before dropping his hand back down to his side, having rubbed away most of the pain that had wormed into his head. The fourteen-year-old glanced briefly over the table in front of him, his eyes catching on the small plate of food that had been laid out in front of him on the table. It was cold by now, having been made for him about an hour ago by Aunt Cass. The woman paused briefly on her way over, blinking as the boy paused over the plate of spaghetti, as if he were debating trying to eat some of it for once rather than leave it untouched like all the plates she offered him. But disappointment hung itself over her features as Hiro merely turned away from it again, twisting instead to look back out the window, as he had been doing for quite some time.

Aunt Cass, eyeing the patrons of the cafe who were busy eating their own ordered food, made her way slowly over to where Hiro was sitting, hovering for a moment as she waited for him to look back at her. But the black-haired boy seemed to have gotten distracted, staring in an unfocused manner out into the streets, which were slowly starting to become illuminated by the streetlights lining the roads. He had been quiet for some time— Aunt Cass had managed to get the boy out of his room after some thorough coaxing, yet her victory in persuading him out was short-lived after Hiro just took to being silent and brooding. He hadn't even poked at his food. Just like he had been doing for the past month and a half.

She coughed lightly in the back of her throat. Hiro didn't react much, and after glancing around her patrons one last time, as if they could offer her some kind of assistance, she started to venture forward slowly. "Hiro?" The boy stirred at his name, the woman being encouraged at the fact that it had been easier to grab his attention than last time he'd become disconnected. So she coughed again and went on, her voice a tad lighter now as she grinned, looking over Hiro's head and out the window as well. "I was just saying how the weather's so horrible," she laughed, eyeing the rain that was coming down in sheets outside. "And just think: soon all of this could be snow! Won't that be great?"

Hiro gave a noncommittal grunt in what Aunt Cass guessed was supposed to be an agreement. Her smile faltered slightly at the lack of attention that the boy was showing; it wasn't to say that she was surprised by it, though. Ever since the night of the Showcase at the college, and ever since Tadashi had passed away, Hiro had been vacant and, in the most general sense of the word, sad. Depressed. At first the woman had allowed the boy space and time, hoping that the age-old expression of 'Time Healing all Wounds' would apply in such a situation as this. After all, she had needed her own time to come to acceptance as well. But more than a month had gone by, and while she had picked herself up and had come to terms with what had happened, it hadn't seemed to work the same for Hiro, who only seemed to fall further into the rut of loss. He was spacey and distracted, barely allowing any kind of conversation other than small tidbits, and he rarely ever left his room unless Aunt Cass was the one to lead him down the stairs like she had tonight. It pained the woman to even try and remember the last time he had cracked a smile that was halfway genuine.

Aunt Cass had tried everything she could; what more could she do as his guardian? Movie night hadn't worked; Hiro was never interested in what she picked out, and it was always a process in trying to find a movie that didn't involve any kind of death in its plot just in case it upset him further. Cooking together didn't work; the first attempt had been the last after Hiro had accidentally lost track of how much time the oven was running and almost started a fire in the kitchen. Board games were out; it was a moot effort when only one person was focusing and driving a game of Monopoly. And getting out of the house was never easy with the way that Hiro had to be coaxed to even take a trip down the stairs.

It was a long process, but Aunt Cass was determined to keep trying, no matter the extent that it came to be in. Having faith in the child that she raised ever since he was three, she smiled brightly instead as she shook off the disappointing answer. "I was going to ask if you wanted to make some cookies later," she said, reaching over and giving Hiro's shoulder a small shake. The boy blinked rapidly, as if surprised that she was still standing there, turning away from the window and looking up to meet her gaze a little hesitantly. Yet she kept the smile brightly, refusing to let it waver now that he had finally torn his eyes away from the window and the dreary sight of outside. "I could set a timer this time," she added teasingly. "That way we won't have to worry about losing track of however long they're in there."

"That sounds great," Hiro said, though his voice lacked any sense of enthusiasm that may have been there prior to this ordeal. But it was far more than Cass had been expecting, the brunette's face splitting into a far bigger smile now as a touch of excitement seemed to spark itself in the back of her eyes. She opened her mouth to say something, looking as if she was about to launch into one of her happiness-fueled rants that she had the tendency to ramble on through. But Hiro spoke up before she could get out a single syllable, and whatever sense of mirth that was starting to rise up inside of her was dashed a little. "But I'm…um, I'm gonna go out. Tonight," the boy mumbled, looking back down at the plate that was in front of him rather than keeping his gaze locked with Cass'. Numbly, he picked up the fork that was lying on the table, stabbing disinterestedly at the noodles as a way to occupy himself.

"…Oh," Cass murmured after a moment of silence, feeling a touch of regret at the let-down. But then she shook herself, lighting up once again as she simpered. "Really?" she asked. Well….that was good; he hadn't been out of the house in such a long time, maybe this was just the start of things getting better if he was willing to get out and about. "That's great!" she said, brightening at the mental picture. "Are you going out with your friends? I haven't seen them since it all happened; they must be itching to hang out with you!" Hiro glanced at her from the corner of his eyes at this, but he didn't offer much in response. "Well…well that's just awesome!" She was bubbling over by now, but she couldn't manage to stop herself as she beamed. "Do you need a ride somewhere? Do you need me to get your jacket? I can get you some gloves and a scarf too; it's starting to get a little chilly outside. Oh, and this rain is going to make things even worse, do you want a poncho? Or maybe I can just try to see whether or not I can find an umbrella around here— it shouldn't be too hard….maybe I can—"

"You don't have to do anything," Hiro objected, effectively cutting her off as he spoke up. "Really, I'm okay. I can just, um….meet up with them on my own. I can get my hoodie; it isn't that bad outside." The boy paused for a moment before grinning, offering his Aunt a smile as he set down his fork in the pile of now-disturbed noodles, having not actually eaten a single bite, but just pushed around the food to make it appear touched. "That's okay, right?" Cass opened her mouth to answer him, but Hiro was already pushing his chair back from the table, standing up and offering her yet another small grin. It was more than he had smiled in the past month and half, and it was clear on the woman's face that the mere idea of some kind of progress was elating. Even the simple notion of having things become better was enough to cause that happy bubble to come back up in the back of her throat.

"No, no, that's completely fine. You go do whatever you want, honey, don't you even worry about me!" she gushed, thrilled as she reached out and placed her hands on either one of Hiro's shoulders affectionately. She reached over, fiddling with the young boy's hair habitually, the boy's smile fading quickly as she went to work and fussed. "You go have fun with your friends! I won't even give you a curfew, how's that sound?" Hiro didn't reply, but there wasn't much need for his input into the conversation at this point. "You go…do whatever teenagers do. Go tee-pee other kids' houses and smash some mailboxes and vandalize the streets— wait on second thought, you might not want to go and do that. How's a movie sound? I heard that new one that just came out was pretty good. I mean obviously if smashing mailboxes is what makes you happy then maybe I could try and—"

"Okay Aunt Cass." Hiro mumbled, reaching up and quiet literally prying her hands off of him. The patrons of the cafe were staring by now, but the quick evasion was more for the child's own sake rather than anyone else's. Hiro glanced down instead to the untouched plate of pasta that had been provided him a while ago. It wasn't to say that he had been planning to eat the meal anyway, he wasn't hungry. But he had gotten distracted looking out the window, and it seemed like he had spaced out in his own thoughts.

A lump formed in his throat at the memory that he had flashed back to, and he felt again the now-familiar tear in his heart at the thought of that night so long ago. He would have rather stayed, he realized. Sitting at the cafe table, spacing away from the crowded and noisy restaurant and thinking back to other times. It wasn't healthy, Aunt Cass had persisted. It wouldn't help; it would just make things worse. But the fact remained that he hadn't seen Tadashi in what felt like ages, though really it was only just an amount of sparse weeks after his older brother's death. He would take a memory, no matter how bitter it appeared to be, if that meant that he could at least picture him. Thinking back served as a distraction from the pitied looks from the customers that filed in here and realized that he was downstairs today. Or the mass amount of emails and web videos that were piling on his computer from Tadashi's old friends over at the college. Distractions were more preferable than this.

Hiro cleared his throat, shaking his head in the attempt to clear it from the unneeded thoughts. "I think that I'm gonna go pretty soon, though," the teenager said slowly, reaching up and scratching the back of his head as he said this. "I planned it all out with them this morning; they said they would be waiting for me at the Park a few blocks down. They said that maybe a walk would be a good idea. You know, to get…talking about…some stuff." Before Aunt Cass could propose a question in response to him, he perked, clearing his throat and glancing up at her almost imploringly. "Is that alright?"

Cass looked a little uncertain. "Uh…sure honey," she said slowly. "But wouldn't they much rather come here and talk?" Always pushing, she grinned a little bit as she said: "I could close up shop a little early, it's no trouble. The weather's not the best for a walk in the park. It isn't raining as hard as it was before, but you don't want to be soaked, do you? You'll get dripping wet and I'm sure that the last thing that you need right now is a cold. But if you come here then you'll be able to have doughnuts and pies! I don't know whether they're stale or not by now." This sentence was perhaps spoken a bit too loud, for it caused many of the other patrons to look up from their food and glance suspiciously over her way. "But I could always whip something up in a jiffy for you, you know that." Hiro listened with a slightly pained look as his Aunt went on and on, dishing out more and more options that he really didn't have the energy to listen through. "But are you sure? Are you absolutely sure? Because it's no trouble, really, it would be easy to—"

Finally Hiro cut through. "I'm sure, Aunt Cass. But thank you though. They just wanted a night outside. With me. And it's fine; I don't mind the cold. Or the rain," he smiled at this, and as Aunt Cass still seemed dubious, he stepped forward, pushing himself onto his toes and stretching up in order to plant a small kiss on the side of her cheek. A rather mean move, as it instantly caused the reaction that the younger boy was hoping it would, the woman's face breaking once again into that large smile and all the worry melting off of her face. "I'll be fine," he assured, pulling back quickly and already starting to duck away. "It's nothing I can't handle."

Aunt Cass started to reply, but the boy had already turned, slouching out of the cafe and towards the stairs to where their home would begin. The brunette watched carefully as her nephew trudged up the stairs, the smile on her face remaining as she relished in the idea that he would actually go out with friends tonight. It had been far too many weeks of the boy just staying holed up in his room— and while such a reaction was more than a given in the face of how close Hiro and Tadashi had been growing up, it was still worrying. When he wasn't upstairs, Hiro always seemed to be wishing that he was, vacant and absent-minded as he took to just staring off to the side like he had today over what was supposed to be his dinner. There have been a few days even when the young boy would simply refuse to get out of his bed. It couldn't be helping in staying up there, in the vacancy of his brother's empty bed and all of his other belongings that had yet to be dealt with. Aunt Cass had always meant to do something with them, but the mere thought of giving the things away was awful. Yet keeping them as an ever-present reminder wasn't helping either. Not when Hiro was as depressed as he had been.

Going out with friends would be good for him, she told herself firmly. It would help to get his mind off of things and start focusing on something other than his recent loss. Maybe tonight would help him see that registering for college might be a good idea. The group of kids had been up multiple times of course since the fire— they had even been at Tadashi's funeral. Yet Hiro had never come down to greet them; he never even seemed to react when Cass had told him that they were downstairs asking for the child. Whatever obstacle that was in the way seemed to have lifted from the boy if he was going out to meet them tonight. And this could only mean that more things were on their way, more accomplishments that would eventually lead to the boy making a full recovery from the tragedy that had occurred. The simple idea or thought that such a thing was possible caused the woman to smile brilliantly once again, an aching sort of happiness in the idea that her little boy could get past something like this.

A few minutes passed in which Cass took to milling around, taking away trash and refilling coffee, managing to hold a few sparse conversations. Mrs. Matsuda, a regular to the bakery, hindered the woman's flittering about to check on each customer there as she stopped Cass in order to ask how Hiro was doing. Most regulars had the same question when they came along, always finding it odd not to see at least a passing glance of him milling about. And to see him just sitting motionless like he'd taken to today was even more concerning to some. Cass recalled how Tadashi and Hiro would often help to run the cafe during the summer or weekends, or when they were just simply bored. Usually the pair of them caused more havoc and chaos than was really necessary to run the cafe — there had been one time where Hiro had decided that he would try his very best to shoot straw wrappers at Tadashi no matter where the older brother was inside of the cafe, and Tadashi had responded by trying to wrangle the bag of straws away from the younger, which ended up in three spilled drinks and a tray of doughnuts falling onto the floor — but it was always well appreciated in the end. Good fun. Fun that was sorely missed by Aunt Cass and the regulars alike, as it turned out.

But Cass' conversation with the old woman was cut short as Hiro came back downstairs. Sure enough, he had put on one of his hoodies, the hood drawn up snugly around his face as he made for the door. Excusing herself in a little bit of a rush, the guardian sidled around her other customers, throwing out quick 'I'll be right with you's or 'Hang on a second please's as she sidled past people that were trying to get her attention. "Hiro!" She called, the boy stopping short with one hand on the door as he stiffened.

The fourteen-year-old turned around to face her just in time to be greeted with a large bear hug, a small squeak escaping from his throat as he was squeezed tightly around his waist. Aunt Cass beamed as she hugged close to her nephew, swaying side to side a little bit as she hummed under her breath. "You go have so much fun tonight!" she ordered as she pulled back, a small wince over Hiro's face from such an unexpected and tight embrace. "Don't even worry about curfew, you just go and hang out with your friends, okay?"

"Thanks Aunt Cass," Hiro offered, trying to offer yet another smile, though it came out a little more awkward than anything that could be genuine.

The fact went unnoticed to his guardian in the elation of his actually leaving, and she pulled him in for yet another bone-crushing squeeze, much to the irritation of the young boy. "Last hug!" the woman chirped, keeping the child longer this time as she kept him in her vice-like grip. But after a moment or two, she let go, Hiro wriggling out from her hold and smoothing over his hoodie, ensuring that it was still snug. "I'll see you later then! I have to tend to the night rush, I guess," she said, unperturbed even by the increasingly-irate customers waiting for their service behind her.

"Good luck with that," Hiro bode, his hands slipping into the front pocket of his hoodie as he quickly drew backwards, exiting the cafe hurriedly as he shouldered open the door. Outside it was colder than he'd first expected, the boy staggering slightly as he stepped over the threshold. And sure enough, the sensation of small pricks on his head signaled raindrops, and dark circles started to pepper themselves over his sweatshirt the longer he stood in one place. Exhaling and glancing behind him, Hiro stood pensively for a moment or two outside the building, bathed in the warm glow that came from the lights inside as he watched Aunt Cass return to her daily routine in running the shop. She seemed happy as she fluttered here and there, taking orders and payments from her customers all while her mouth moved a mile a minute, probably holding up a hundred different conversations at once. It was like any other night.

The idea caused a small shadow to fall over the boy's expression, and he looked down, one of his arms slipping out from his hoodie, as he withdrew the small robot that he had stashed there. Taking out his other arm as well, Hiro held the small thing in his hands, staring down almost blankly at the small thing that he had created what seemed like ages ago. It was the thing that had inspired his Microbots, which were now all destroyed along with everything else in the fire that had ravaged the Showcase. The thought elicited a heavy sigh from the teenager, who turned the fighting robot — who he'd given the title Megabot — over and over in his hands. He looked up, almost torn as he looked around, down the street, to the left, to the right, or back behind the store. He considered tucking away the robot, doubling back instead and heading left to the park like he had told Aunt Cass he would do. The idea of lying to the woman, when she seemed so happy at even the smallest mention of him going out and doing something with Tadashi's friends, was unpleasant. It made his stomach clench guiltily, and he looked down the street that would lead him there.

But he couldn't. He couldn't go and be with them— they were Tadashi's friends. Sure, while Hiro had worked on the Microbots for the college Showcase, he had managed to get closer to them, and he had maybe even formed something akin to a friendship with the group. But that was just because Tadashi had introduced them all and had invited them in the first place. He couldn't go and be with them now. Not after everything that happened. Not without Tadashi by his side.

Hunching his shoulders and looking back down briefly at Megabot, Hiro turned and started down the opposite way, hunching his shoulders and making his way downtown as he walked against the rain.

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It was booming still, despite the dreary and unnaturally-frigid weather. The alley was still packed with people that had journeyed underground for bot fights, who still took to standing around in a closely-knit circle, the people still just as hyped over the metallic violence as they always had been. Shouts were coming from every direction, money being thrown this way and that as bets were placed on whoever was in the center of the mayhem to showcase whatever new kind of bot they were confident in winning with. The air was tight with tension and fraught with excitement, and with the newest fight being set up in the middle of the backlot, the roar of voices and conversation rose to an all-time high.

It was like everything was the same, everything was normal. Like nothing at all had happened. It was bittersweet, but Hiro found himself aching for such a sensation right about now.

The fourteen-year-old was sitting cross-legged on the slightly-grimy floor of the alley, Megabot lying in its traditional heap a little bit in front of him. He had gone through three rival robots now in the span of five hours, albeit numbly. Transitioning from going out into the ring, waiting for more people to come, and then weaving back into the fray, the teenager had bided his time. The thought of going back home to Aunt Cass while the woman was still awake wasn't anything that he felt like doing. She would stop him and ask questions, and to demand full detail on what happened while he was supposedly out with friends. He had already lied to her about that aspect, and he wasn't keen on adding more lies to the list.

A fourth challenger was approaching, the announcement of their name going ignored by the teenager as well as their entire being. Hiro barely even glanced over their robot before deciding that it would be more than simplistic to defeat with his own— he didn't really feel like delving into things deeper than that knowledge. He wasn't putting on any sort of front either, the teenager much too worn to try and feign nativity in the realm of bot fighting to derive more cash. He simply reached into the pocket of his hoodie, withdrawing the money that he had brought along with him as well as the other stacks that he had won in the past few hours. And the teenager turned, depositing the paper on the tray offered to him by the referee. In the back of his mind, he decided that he would put his winnings into the cash register on his way up tonight. Maybe that would alleviate the sense of guilt that was weighing down on his shoulders by him being here.

The entire crowd had grown almost quiet now as the fight started to begin. Hiro tilted his head slightly, an obscenely-unimpressed look on his face as he saw that his opponent — a rather awkward-looking guy that probably could have stood to lose a few tons — looked more than prepared for the fight, an almost smug look overcoming their face as they leaned closer to the ring. Then the boy's eyes flickered down to the bot, eyebrows rising in a snide way as he looked at the hodgepodge of nuts and bolts that stood a few feet away from Megabot. Such a blatant show of supposed superiority would have offended Hiro on any other night prior to this one, but now the boy just sighed heavily under his breath, sinking back and grabbing up his controls with a suggested roll of the eyes.

As tradition, the referee leaned forward into the circle, leaning out to spin an umbrella between the two fighters. "Two bots enter, one bot leaves!" they called out, an air of mystery to the starting call as the intricate design of the umbrella spun back and forth. Hiro coughed slightly, shaking his head to try and clear it yet again. He could just focus on the fight. Not on the fire. Not on Tadashi. Not on the way that whenever Aunt Cass or Tadashi's old friends looked at him they stared at him like his puppy had just run away. Here there wasn't any hushed conversation about him going on when his back was turned. There weren't any sorrowful looks pointed his way or exchanged between people who caught sight of him. There weren't any of Tadashi's things around to painfully remind him that his brother was gone. It was all just shouts of excitement and money being passed around and robots and tactic. That was all he needed right now.

The fight started as soon as the referee stepped back. The rival, the one that Hiro had completely ignored the name of, leaned forward even more in his excitement, the small excuse for a robot starting towards Megabot, who was still limp against the ground. Hiro deadpanned, his eyes flickering lazily from the other robot to its controller. The others around him, who had seen the small boy fight before, were obviously on the edge with their knowledge, waiting until the boy would make his first — and probably last, if the past was anything to go off of — move. And the boy did of course. Though it was without even a fraction of the excitement and tension that the other seemed to carry at the prospect of a bot fight.

Hiro's disinterested, even bored, look remained plastered on his face, the boy's fingers working mechanically on his controller as he kicked Megabot into motion, the robot shooting up to its feet immediately to charge forward. There were gasps of shock and excitement on those who had just arrived to the fight, who hadn't seen Hiro's work before, but the boy still did not react. Megabot dashed right into the other robot, which was nearly twice as big as he was, as most other robots tended to be at these things. It only served a greater purpose for Hiro though, as Megabot merely climbed straight up the robot's haphazardly-formed body to wrap around the head. It went straight for the kill— no prolonging things with showy effects or stunts.

The owner of the other robot seemed to be caught off-guard by the sudden change. It was how it usually happened. The cycle that normally ran and continued throughout every bot fight that Hiro found himself going to. It was repetitive, Hiro thought, as he merely popped the other bot's head clean off its shoulders. But it was normal, something that Hiro remembered and something that he knew wouldn't change. And he was okay with that he figured, watching as the other robot capsized, its owner's face miles from their prior superiority. Megabot fell down along with the other robot, shooting back up in order to turn around and scamper back to Hiro. The boy leaned out, scooping up the black robot and tucking it away in his hoodie in a synchronized motion as he started to stand.

"The winner is Hiro Hamada!" the referee bellowed, announcing the rather obvious fact as they turned and offered the tray of winnings to the fourteen-year-old. The rival scowled in disappointment, being forced to undergo the shame of having to pick up the pieces of their robot while everybody watched and cheered on the victor, who instead of picking up scrap metal and worthless bolts, got instead to pick up their achieved wad of cash. Well, Hiro could only assume that the other task was shameful— he'd never had to do it before. But while other times he would shrug cockily and probably utter out a phrase or two that would include boasting over his intelligence at the win, now he just took the money and ducked out of the circle of attention hurriedly.

Usually winners tended to stay to challenge anybody who would 'dare' come up to outmatch their fighting robot. But Hiro wasn't in the mood to stay much longer. After all of this, beating four people was enough. The temperature was only dropping more and more the later it got, and with his clothes already being wet from the rain, he was freezing cold. Plus it was nearing midnight. Not that the boy was able to fall asleep easily these days anyway, but his joints were already aching with exhaustion, and he had a long walk in order to get home anyway. He hadn't even counted the stack of money he'd accumulated in the night's proceedings; but he could tell by the weight in the pocket of his hoodie that staying for more wouldn't be needed in the slightest. The break was a needed one, but staying any longer was pointless. There was still a possibility that Aunt Cass was _literally_ waiting for him to return home, probably armed with excited questions over what he had done that night with his friends. She had told him no curfew, but the woman would certainly be furious if he decided to walk in at two or three in the morning.

Hiro shouldered his way through the throng of people surrounding the ring. The teenager flipped his hood back up over his head, ducking down and weaving through the people around him as he started to head back to the exit of the alleyway. As usual, those gathered attempted to stop him, calling out ambiguous shouts like: "Hey kid!" or "Hey stop for a second!" But Hiro ignored them blatantly, keeping his eyes fixed straight forward instead as he stalked out of the backlot. Behind him, he could hear that more people were lining up to fight, and he figured that most of these people would indeed stay until three or four in the morning. He almost wished that something like that were possible for him. The hint of more distractions sent his way in the form of bot fighting sounded more than appealing. But Aunt Cass was waiting— he couldn't do that.

Maybe he could come back tomorrow night.

"Hey!" Hiro scowled as another shout reached his ears, the boy tucking away his robot consciously as he hunched his shoulders forward. He locked his jaw backwards in irritation— the person was probably just going to badger him for secrets in how to get their bot up to par. And he certainly wasn't in the mood to deal with any of 'those' idiots that were around here tonight. But they were persistent as Hiro walked past them, calling out again now as they used his name. "Hey, Hiro!" The boy paused briefly at the use of his name, a flicker of confusion coming over him as he tried to tell by their voice on whether or not he knew them. Curiosity overtook him, and he found himself stopping, turning to the left to look over their way.

The face didn't seem familiar, nor did the friends that were standing on either side of the person. The one who had shouted was some curly redhead that looked a few years older than him at least. She had a tattoo of a star near her right eye, and she grinned a snickering kind of smile as Hiro turned to face her. "Hey there," she greeted warmly, as if they had seen one another before. Hiro didn't reply, merely staring blankly over at her. And after a while, Redhead gave a small laugh, nodding as she raised her arm in a vacant gesture towards him. "Good fight, kid," she chirped, Hiro's eyes landing on the thing she held in her upraised hand as he put his own back into his pockets.

"No thanks," he said flatly, an almost sour look crawling over his features as he looked at the bottle Redhead held crossly.

He started to turn again, to keep walking as he remembered the walk he had home. But Redhead pushed off of the alley way, looking perplexed as she called out, stopping him in his tracks once again as she took a few steps forward. Obviously she wasn't going to let him walk away. Hiro sighed in the back of his throat, turning back for what felt like the millionth time. The next bot fight was starting off to the side— shouldn't she be more concerned with whatever was going on over in that direction? "Hey, wait a second," the tattooed fighter said. "I've watched you bot fight all night and you didn't smile once. Now it might just be me but I think getting all that fat wad of cash would make you grin at least a little bit."

Hiro didn't answer, taking to staring at her silently.

Off to the side, a loud cheering scream rose up from the crowd. Someone must have just won. The boy turned, glancing over and watching passively as one of the fighters — presumably the winner — leapt up to their feet, their hands shooting up into the sky as they gave a thundering cheer, raising their robot up and waving it around for all to look at. A crease slowly appeared in Hiro's forehead, and he paused for the briefest of moments, some of the sadness that he was trying to distract himself from making a comeback as a dark cloud started to hover over the young teenager. Redhead must have seen the odd change, because she cleared her throat loudly. "Catch," she called out, Hiro turning to face her in just enough time to stiffen with surprise, jerking forward and just managing to catch the bottle she threw his way before it could fall and shatter onto the ground. "It's on the house," Redhead added as Hiro straightened, a pinched look on the boy's face.

He locked his jaw backwards. "I don't drink," he said, his words dull as he clenched the glass bottle of alcohol in his hands.

"And I don't give hand-outs," Redhead replied accordingly. "But if any sorry sack needed some of that right now, it'd be you. Go ahead and give it a try— you might actually offer a smile or two." Hiro didn't move at this, and she shrugged, offering the younger a peace sign and a grin of her own as she started to go back to her friends. "Good fight, kid," she repeated her words from before. "See ya around maybe." Hiro opened his mouth to say something in response, a sarcastic phrase bubbling up in the back of his throat as he tried to regain some kind of ground that he had lost in staying silent. However Redhead had taken her leave, turning her back and retreating to her group that she had been standing with previously, already rallying together bets for the newest set of bot fighters coming into the ring.

Hiro's joints were locked together, and the fourteen-year-old looked back down to the bottle that he now had clasped in his hands. His brain spluttered for a moment, as if he were unsure of what to do. He glanced back over at the ring, at Redhead, down the alleyway to the street, back down to the bottle. Eventually he shook his head, trying to clear it once more as the young boy turned for the last time, going unstopped now as he headed back out the way that he had come in. Heavy in his jacket's pocket was Megabot and the surplus of money that he had achieved with the many fights he had entered. But even heavier still was the glass bottle that he held in his hands, the small rocking of the liquid that was inside seeming much louder than it actually was as he turned back home.

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The cafe was locked by the time that Hiro finally got back. It was going on to two by now, and apparently Aunt Cass had decided that staying up in order to wait for him was a moot point. Hopefully she just assumed he had stayed at someone's house— it would be easier for her to assume such things rather than Hiro being forced to outright deceive her. But he was more than sure that he would get bombarded with questions in the morning, and the idea caused the teenager's stomach to sink as he went around back to enter the building since the front door had probably been locked hours ago.

Stepping into the now-darkened bakery, Hiro had to narrow his eyes in order to adjust to the dark and see properly. And as promised to himself, after the teenager locked the back door behind him, he went for the register. Entering the required set of numbers to open it — he had learned the code after working here days on end whenever Aunt Cass needed help — he winced as the machine gave out a loud ding as its lower panel shot open. One eye closed and his face pulled into an apprehensive grimace, the teenager's hand hovered over the keypad, biting down on his lower lip as he waited for Aunt Cass to be roused by the noise and come downstairs. If she did, he had no idea what to do, considering he had just walked into the house at two in the morning and he was now opening up the register for presumably no reason. If he was his Aunt, he would certainly have a few questions of his own to pose.

But a few tense minutes passed of the boy remaining stock-still, and there wasn't any appearance of his guardian. Slowly, he released out a small breath he hadn't realized he'd been holding, stepping back a little and withdrawing the stack of money he'd gotten during the night. He hadn't counted it up yet, but he figured that putting all of it in would be a _little_ noticeable. But he was sure that a few extra tens or twenties lying around in the machine wouldn't, and so he separated the bills, putting them down into their corresponding sections and tucking the rest away back where they had come. And then he shut the door of the machine, wincing again as he took care in shutting it so that it wouldn't make any more excess noise.

Then he turned and went up the stairs, taking care in skipping the third one, which was always a little creaky when you walked on it. All the lights were on, and as the boy walked past the living room and towards the second set of stairs, it was obvious that Aunt Cass had fallen asleep a long time ago. So Hiro wasted no time in sneaking back up to his room, not bothering to turn on the light as he did so. The teenager was worn out, and there was no doubt that he would have dark circles under his eyes tomorrow morning. It was the first time in a long one that he had been outside of the cafe, and he found himself exhausted with the change of activity— rather than sitting curled up in his room all day motionless, he had walked all the way downtown, stood for more than five hours, and then he'd walked all the way back. It was a large change, and Hiro found himself flopping down onto his bed with a pained huff.

He laid there for a few minutes; his eyes closed as he tried to resist the temptation to turn and look over to the right where he knew for a fact Tadashi's things would be lying. The empty bed, the now-lonely-looking hat sitting atop of it— they were like a heavy reminder that was continuously tapping on the fourteen-year-old's shoulder, begging his unwilling attention. He curled up on his side instead, keeping his back to the opposite end of the room as he stared at the wall._I've watched you bot fight all night and you didn't smile once. Now it might just be me but I think getting all that fat wad of cash would make you grin at least a little bit._Hiro swallowed, blinking as he looked down at his hands, realizing that they were still clenched tightly around the smooth glass of the bottle that Redhead had given him. He'd almost forgotten.

The boy pushed himself up, his face fallen as he stared at the flask he held, turning it on its side routinely, his eyes narrowed slightly as he hesitated. _I don't drink._He frowned, turning and glancing over to the right, his stomach clenching painfully as he looked at the other end of the room. Any other night and Tadashi would have been in his own bed, turned over on his left side like he always took to sleeping. The room would have been filled with his snoring— Hiro remembered how he had always complained very loudly about the habit of his brother's. It was always something that irritated the younger boy when he was trying to sleep. But now the room was silent, and sleep was even harder to achieve because of that. The room was too empty. Too quiet. Everything was now.

His heart tore on itself as he was painfully reminded that his brother wasn't there anymore. He wasn't there to have conversations with or to talk to or to call if he needed help. He wasn't even there for Hiro to complain to. He was gone. Tadashi was gone. And he wasn't coming back.

_But if any sorry sack needed some of that right now, it'd be you. Go ahead and give it a try—__you might actually offer a smile or two._

Hiro tore his gaze away from the empty side of the room, back down to the bottle. He pulled up his sweatshirt a little bit, spinning his hand around in the fabric of his shirt and bringing the bottle down so that he could wrap the cloth around the top of the glass. The sides of the cap were sharp and they bit into his skin as he twisted hard to the left, and the teenager winced at the little pinpricks of pain that was inflicted by the action. But the cap eventually spun off, Hiro dropping the cap onto the bed and untangling his hand from his shirt as he let out a small sigh. _…you might actually offer a smile or two…_Hiro glanced over to the right again. Back down to the bottle.

_…It can't hurt to just __try__…can it?_

And slowly the fourteen-year-old raised the flask to his mouth, wrapping his lips thinly around the dip of the glass and tipping it backwards. Immediately, he choked, hunching forward and dropping his arm so that he could cough heavily into the crook of his arm, trying to stifle the noise as much as he could. His throat burned from the initial swallow of the amber liquid, and Hiro grimaced deeply at the sensation that it brought with the first swallow. But as he waited and got his breath back, he realized that even from the first gulp, he was left with a slightly lighter sort of feeling— a little bit warmer one. One that was vastly different from the heavy burden he had been dragging behind him ever since the fire. He looked down at the bottle in frank apprehension, pausing briefly before attempting the feat again, raising the bottle back up to his lips and taking down another sip. And again, the feeling returned with the drink, stronger in the most minuscule sense.

And cautiously, finding the sensation growing stronger and stronger, and suddenly realizing the connection, Hiro took more and more sips of the amber liquid, finding the action coming easier and easier as the warm feeling started to expand, filling his chest and wrapping around him entirely. And sitting in the darkly-lit room on his bed, swallowing down the alcohol that had been offered to him earlier in the night, Hiro found that the pressing attention that had been tugging his eyes over to the right side of the room got smaller and smaller, until eventually he didn't feel as if he had to look over in that direction anymore.

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A/N: Thank you for reading all of this! I really suck at summaries, so the fact that you've gotten this far is great. This is the newest idea of mine that is under construction, and this is more or less just serving as the primary introduction. There is a lot more to come, more than I could fit into the summary, so I hope you all are as excited for what's going to happen as I am! There is going to obviously be underage things. Such as drinking or possible drug use. So please be aware of that :)

But I hope that you like it! And I hope I can hear from you in a review before I post the next chapter~!


	2. Chapter 2

It was dark. The boy, rendered prostrate, couldn't see a single inch in front of his face, left staring out into pitch blackness. A heaviness hung over the boy, a sore kind of sensation that pressed down uncomfortably in every direction, seeming to not leave any space to breathe as the child took in irregular, shallow huffs. He grimaced deeply, attempting to move but coming up useless as he couldn't manage the simple task. He felt as if he were hunched into the ground, a heavy burden slung over his back that prevented him from pushing himself back up to his feet. A small groan escaped Hiro's throat, the teenager struggling to move or breathe correctly, finding that the longer he crouched against the floor, the harder the ideas seemed to get.

There was a dull crackling noise— one that seemed to be coming from the back of the teenager's mind rather than somewhere in the blackness around him. The fuzzy snaps and pops caused the boy to become acutely aware of the pounding that was taking place in his head, the boy ducking his chin down close to his chest as he grimaced once more, another small noise of discomfort worming out from his closed mouth. Confusion was alive in every movement the boy struggled to manage, those that he did coming across slow and gradual, as if he were moving through some kind of syrup. Fuzziness clouded his senses, and for a moment all that existed was the uncomfortable position and the sensation that it brought, the boy left hopeless against the dark around him as he hung his head.

"…Hiro…!"

The boy stiffened at the sudden appearance of another voice, his eyes, which had previously been closed, snapping open at the sound of his name. Painfully, slowly, Hiro struggled to move his head in order to look up, his eyes dilating into panicked slits as his fingernails dug into the ground. His breath caught in the middle of his throat, the boy floundering for any sort of movement now as he tried to push against whatever kind of force was holding him down. His heartbeat picked up instantly, his body rushing with heat that only seemed to grow sharper against his struggles.

Again, the shout echoed its way over, louder than it had been before. "…Hiro!" His name was called yet again, and the boy in question gasped shallowly at the tone of voice, his chest aching in a searing way as he strained to see through the dimness around him. It was nearly impossible to do so though, the teenager aching with the frustration of his apparent immobility. He leaned forward, reaching out for the voice again, to try and locate where it was coming from— who it was coming from. For surely it couldn't be…

As the voice increased in volume, so did the fuzzy haze of noise around Hiro, the snapping and slight crackling noises rising into a soft roar on all sides of his hunched figure. As Hiro tried to move up from the ground, the rush of hot adrenaline from hearing the shout of his name didn't fade away, rather persisting only to get progressively worse as grew into a prickling, stinging sensation. The scenery around him changed, the pitch blackness around him growing ever so lighter, with a torrid kind of orange glow. The air around him grew hotter, denser and blacker against the orange light around him. And quickly, Hiro's ragged, uneven breathing hitched as horror gripped the young boy's heart in piercingly-cold claws.

Realization dawned on the teenager as the boy began to fall into panic, his body breaking into fits of tremors as he gasped in and out sharply. He was on the floor of the SFIT Showcase, large flames surrounding him and licking at every inch of the large building. Smoke hung thick in the air, and as Hiro attempted to take in another gasp he immediately choked, doubling over in a hacking cough instead. The roar of the fire was ear-splitting, and Hiro winced deeply as the window nearest to him shattered from the sheer amount of heat, glass raining down to the floor and peppering over him in a painful fashion.

The fourteen-year-old struggled to get up to his feet. He had to run; he had to make it out before the entire building collapsed on itself. But his hands were rooted to the floor as the flames grew nearer, catching light on his jacket and crawling up his arm in rapid succession. He couldn't move a single muscle; every time he tried doing so only caused the heat around him to increase tenfold, the flames spreading with quicker accuracy and deadliness. The boy gasped in the smoke rapidly, falling into the trap of hyperventilation that was only disrupted by hoarse series of coughs. He was going to burn. He was going to die. He was going to—

"…Hiro!"

The boy jerked at the call again, his heart aching as his head managed to snap up in response. He struggled to take in enough air to call back, his chest constricting on itself in his efforts. "T-" He broke off, unable to finish his sentence as he ducked down in order to gag on the smoke that was filling up his lungs. He couldn't get in enough air get out a single syllable. But horror and pain made quick work in filling him to the brim, and the teenager's voice broke in sheer desperation. He knew that voice. He knew it like the back of his hand. And yet he couldn't speak, couldn't move, couldn't even call out to it. "Ta-"

The door on the far end of the room burst open, Hiro's streaming eyes barely able to make out the coherent sight of what was in front of him. But sure enough, though far away and dim through the smoke, Hiro yelled out, the noise that ripped from his throat something akin to a sob as he staggered in holding himself up. Tadashi stood in the doorway near the other end of the room, the older brother's eyes alight with worry and fear as his eyes drilled immediately to where Hiro was crouched. Again, there came the shout, the achingly familiar voice quite literally stabbing through the younger. "Hiro!"

Finally, voice raw from the amount of smoke that was being inhaled, Hiro managed to force the yell out of his throat. "Tadashi!" he screamed, his shoulders shaking up and down unevenly as his eyes blurred even more at the sight of his older brother. Tadashi started running, sprinting towards his baby brother faster than seemed possible, shouting his name over and over like it was some kind of mantra, like it would help in some way. "Hiro!" Tadashi yelled, skirting around as much of the flames as he could as he tried to rush for the younger child. "Hiro— Hiro hold on!" he screamed. "I've got you! Just—"

Hiro shook his head, holding back yet another gag as he tried to jerk forward, or at least lift up his arm in a signal to stop. "No, you—" He broke off, grimacing briefly but forcing himself to go on. "Tadashi, turn back…" The boy just barely managed the full sentence, his raw throat not allowing his voice to rise over anything more than a mere rasp by now. His older brother continued to run for him, and Hiro's arms started to shake, the boy slouching slightly as he struggled to get out a shout loud enough. "Tadashi, you have to…—" The floor underneath Hiro started to shake, and he leaned forward slightly, struggling to raise his voice so that he could be heard over the flames. "You have to…" He winced. "You're going to…" He couldn't finish a single thought.

Tadashi was nearly reaching him now. Hiro's vision, unfocused by the smoke and blurred over by watering tears, centered on the image of his older brother. He was soot-streaked, his eyes bright red from the irritation brought on by the fire, but he was exactly like Hiro had remembered him to be. There was a bright smile on his face despite that gruesome scene surrounding them, and his eyes were softened along with their worry and panic as they trained themselves on him. Once the elder started to near him, he reached out for Hiro, as if to run forward and scoop him up into his arms. Hiro made a small noise in the back of his throat, forcing his right arm into motion as the young boy started to lift it up, moving through the thick sensation of syrup as he forcibly yanked his arm off the floor to stretch towards his bother. He leaned forward as much as he could, his joints aching as he tried to reach Tadashi. If he could just reach him…if he could just get up from the floor with Tadashi…

But as soon as Tadashi's fingertips grazed Hiro's own, as soon as Hiro released a sobbing laugh of relief, and as soon as Tadashi started to stoop down in order to gather him off of the ground, there was the explosion. It ripped its way through the very universe, the walls of the building splitting apart as glass and debris erupted from every corner of the Showcase. Tadashi's eyes met Hiro's for the briefest of moments, the older brother's eyes widening just a fraction of a size as he looked down at the younger. Hiro's mouth stretched open, a silent scream of mortification coming from the boy as he watched Tadashi being flung backwards, knocked off of his feet and thrown back into the pit of the flames.

His older brother was gone in an instant, the smoke rushing forward to blind Hiro in blackness once more as the teenager slipped, falling back down against the ground and yelling sharply as the flames that had previously been skirting around him rushed in, crawling over his small figure and catching light on his clothes. But the shouts that came from the boy were void of the sensation, the child only managing screams of incoherent grief, limp against the ground and rendered of movement once again as he burned in the college Showcase, calling out desperately. "Tadashi!" he screamed into the floor, the blasts of explosions ripping through his ears as he shouted. "Tadashi, come back! Help me! Tadashi…! …Tadashi….!"

_Tadashi!_

Hiro woke up in a spasm, the boy's eyes snapping open wide as he gasped shallowly. The teenager's brain was haywire, confused and racing as he painstakingly became aware of his surroundings and what was going on. And when the boy realized what had happened, that it was all just a nightmare, he heaved shaky sighs in and out, struggling to get his breathing back under control. He lifted up shaking hands to press the heels of his palms against his eyes, squeezing them shut as tight as he could as he swallowed back a lump in his throat. He lay in bed unmoving for many minutes as he struggled to reign himself back in, frustration clawing at the back of his throat as his eyes pricked and burned. He ducked his head down close to his chest, the boy's small form shaking as small sobs escaped from under his breath.

The nightmare was like a cobweb he couldn't clear in the back of his head, and as the boy lowered his arms, his eyes automatically strayed over to Tadashi's bed, now predictably empty. The teenager's face encompassed obscene amounts of grief as he stared dismally at the neatly-folded blankets and perfectly-arranged pillows that were across from him. His vision blurred as he stared at the bed, and he raised his arm once more to try and brush away any sort of water that might be forming before it could track their way down his face. …It wasn't fair. It wasn't. None of this was. The thought didn't help in his effort to stave away the tears building behind his eyelids. So he shook his head quickly, struggling to force himself to push aside the emotions before they could further any more than they already had.

Morning sunlight streamed its way through the blinds over his windows, but the prospect of a bright-looking day did nothing for the teenager. Hiro turned and curled up on his side, putting his back to the painful sight that was on the other side of the room as he faced away from Tadashi's half. Instead he stared bleakly at his desk, silent and passive for what felt like an age as his face fell further and further. And, after a total of about fifteen minutes of lying still on his side, Hiro perked slightly, raising his head off of his pillow to look at the things on his desk more accurately. And sure enough, the thing was still lying there.

The boy shuffled over to the edge of his bed, turning and placing his feet on the ground in order to stand up. His head spun briefly at the sudden change, and he leaned over to grab the edge of his desk briefly to wait out the small dizzy spell. There was a dull headache that throbbed in the center of his eyes, evoking a reaction of pain as the young boy cringed a little bit. But he shook this off as best he could as well, a frown on his face as he skirted around his computer chair. Among the books and papers that were strewn over his workstation a little haphazardly, there was a small envelope, laying neat and orderly among the mess around it. The crest was familiar to Hiro, all too familiar as he reached down to pick it up gingerly. It was the recommendation letter he had received to get into Tadashi's college. The one he had gotten in return for his demonstration of his Microbots. The boy locked his jaw backwards at the reminder, staring down at the thing as he turned it over repeatedly in his hands.

He swallowed thickly, the lump returning once again as he stood stock-still, his gaze slowly starting to smolder and burn as his grip got a little tighter on the paper. His hands began to shake, breaking out into tremors as the crest stared straight back at him. How many times had he dreamed about the fire? How many times had he been forced to remember Tadashi's death? How many times had he stared at his brother's things and how many times had he wished that he could come back? The shaking in Hiro's hands grew more violent with each thought, and the envelope's edges started to cave in now as he clenched his hands into tight fists. He thought of that way that Tadashi had helped him through his presentation of his Microbots. He thought of how Tadashi had grinned at him, the way he had said: 'Welcome to Nerd School.' He thought of that way that Tadashi had started to run into the burning school building, how Hiro had tried to hold him back, had tried to stop him. He'd tried to stop him. He'd tried. But he didn't try hard enough. And now because of the Showcase…because of the fire…because of this stupid college…

Before he could even register what he was doing, Hiro was ripping the envelope. In half, into fours, into eights, into twelfths and sixteenths, twentieths; he ripped it over and over until he couldn't rip it into any more pieces. The letter now reduced to the smallest scraps of paper possible, which littered the ground in heaps. Hiro was breathing heavily, the boy slowly letting his arms fall to his sides and staggering slightly as he leaned against the wooden desk, his face crestfallen as he looked down at the mess. In the back of his mind, he knew he should probably clean it all up before Aunt Cass saw. But as the thought occurred, and even as the thought registered, Hiro made no move to crouch down to the ground. He merely stared at the mass of paper, feeling absolutely nothing. Not remorse. Not vengeance. Not satisfaction. Not happiness. Just….nothing.

He stood for a few minutes, unmoving as he stared down at the mess, as if it were something foreign to him. But then he gave a slow sigh out through the mouth, turning and looking over to his bed, which was only left only slightly rumpled since the boy hadn't even bothered to cover up last night. He hadn't even changed out of his other clothes— he was still wearing the same outfit that he had journeyed downtown with last night. Unable to remember falling asleep was odd, considering that for the boy sleep was oftentimes hard to come by now. Hiro had adopted somewhat of a makeshift form of insomnia after the night of the fire; although with the dream that he'd had, the boy would have much rather preferred staying awake over falling asleep.

He paced back to his bed, catching sight of the thing that he had looked over until now— the thing that he had almost forgotten was there in the first place. Glancing over to the stairs and pausing in order to listen, Hiro tried to catch wind of whether or not Aunt Cass was up yet. Usually it was hard to tell, especially when he knew that Cass had the habit of staying especially quiet whenever she was under the impression that Hiro was finally sleeping. He didn't hear any noises though, such as the small pattering of footsteps or the subtle creak of any floorboards. So Hiro turned back, reaching over and picking up the forgotten item with a small flip of his stomach.

He hadn't meant to drink whatever Redhead had given him— the boy distinctly remembered coming up with a plan on the way home to throw it away in a manner that wouldn't alert Aunt Cass to anything suspicious. Because certainly the last thing that Aunt Cass needed was to be worrying over something like this with him, coupled with everything else that was probably already on her mind. Once he had started to take minimal sips of the alcohol, the plan had then changed to just that bare minimum— he was going to at least try it and then he would revert to Plan A and sneak it out the back. When had it gotten so far away from him that he had finished the entire bottle of liquor? He turned, looking down at his sheets just to make sure that he hadn't just spilled the contents somewhere, which led to the bottle being so empty. But no; there wasn't a single drop to be spared anywhere. This must be the reason for the headache that had settled itself in the front center of his brain.

He gave out another shaking sigh, reaching up to rub at his forehead as he stared down at the empty glass in his hand. His thoughts flashed back to what the girl had said as she literally threw the drink his way, the coy sort of smile that she flashed to him before just taking her leave. It had been so random, so weird. Why hadn't he just left the drink there? 'Go ahead and give it a try— you might actually offer a smile or two.' …It had worked. Short-term at least; usually the boy formed the habit of staying awake all night, on his side as he stared over at Tadashi's empty bed. He'd gone days without sleep recently, and last night had been one of the first nights where he had actually slept uninterrupted until morning. The nightmare persisted to linger in the back of his mind like a shadow, but before that, when he had first started to delve into the drink, his mind had been put to rest, and he had been able to tear his thoughts away from his brother— something that he hadn't had the ability to do at all recently.

…Had he just needed more of the drink to drown out the dreams as well?

The thought came with a chilling feeling, the boy's grip on the glass in his hands tightening ever so slightly. His eyes flickered over to the other side of the room, to Tadashi's things. A lump formed back in his throat like a hard knot, and the young boy's mind started to kick into gear. He looked back down at the bottle, but before he could draw any kind of conclusion, his heart immediately dropped as he became aware of slow footsteps coming up the stairs. Freezing briefly, Hiro spun around, eyes wide as they immediately took to darting around the room for a spot to hide the evidence. They landed on his dresser and before he could hesitate any longer, the boy darted over, ripping out one of the cabinets and hurriedly stuffing away the bottle of alcohol under the mass of folded clothes, disrupting whatever kind of order there was inside previously.

He patted down the clothing rapidly so that the thing would remain out of sight, slamming the drawer shut just a millisecond before Aunt Cass came into view. Expectedly, she was armed with breakfast, like she has been every day since the night of the fire. She must have been taking special care to be quiet, because Hiro hadn't even heard the slightest movement from the kitchen. His aunt took care in stepping lightly, her eyes trained down on her feet as if she were making sure that she didn't slip up and trip. But she perked in surprise as she saw Hiro up already, her eyes widening briefly as the baker stopped short. Hiro saw that she was carrying an enormous waffle, nearly the size of the entire plate she had in her hands. Predictably, the idea of food did nothing but cause the boy's stomach to clench in on itself. But he tried not to show either the disgust he felt for the meal or the guilt at his hiding things from Cass, wiping his face of any evidence that could incriminate him in any way.

"Hiro!" Aunt Cass said, finishing walking up the steps now as she came to a stop a few feet away from him. "I didn't think that you would be up yet." Nowadays, the boy had taken to staying in bed, prolonging the movements of the day as he holed away. That or he would only get up enough to change clothes and then go to sit on his windowsill or in his chair. But Aunt Cass wasn't indicating those instances, it turned out. "You were gone so late last night— I was going to wait for you, but you never came home." There was a beat of silence as the pair stared at one another, and when Hiro didn't make any kind of move to reply to her, she cleared her throat, offering him a small smile. "Did you…did you have fun last night? I want to hear all about it!"

The fourteen-year-old's stomach sank to his feet as his Aunt smiled widely, the woman looking excited over the prospect of hearing the boy launch into a tale about video games or college or parks or walks. His eyes briefly flashed over to the drawer in which he had shoved the bottle of liquor in, and he inhaled quickly, straightening as he looked back at Cass, forcing his lips to curl upwards in what he hoped was a genuine-looking smile. "Um— yeah, yeah it was great," he started, feeling awful as the lies started to slip out from his mouth. And the feeling only worsened as Aunt Cass' grin got bigger and bigger, the woman growing more optimistic as he went on, though he struggled to make it as short as he possibly could. "I met up with them and then we went to…" He grasped for a name. "Honey's house. We played some games and had dinner. It wasn't much….but…." He trailed off, clearing his throat and offering a small shrug.

"That sounds great, honey!" Aunt Cass beamed, thrilled at the prospects — however minimal — that Hiro had offered. "What did you have for dinner?" Hiro fought the urge to wince away as questions started to rain down quicker than he could fathom. "What games did you play? Did you and the others talk about anything? I'm so glad that you're hanging out with them again; they were always so concerned when they came by to see you before! Oh, this is just so great!" Aunt Cass turned, starting to set the plate of food down on the desk. Hiro stiffened as she started to turn, realizing that the mess he had left after ripping up the letter was still all over the floor.

Quickly, Hiro jerked forward to stand in between her and the shredded paper, grinning a little awkwardly now as she pulled back slightly. But before she could say anything, he dashed forward, grabbing the plate from her and holding it close to himself, as if he were suddenly eager to eat. "Yeah, it's great," he replied, forcing out a quick bubble of laughter as he shifted to ensure that Cass wouldn't see the mess. "Actually, I was thinking I could go back out with them again tonight. ….Fred said something about that movie you mentioned before. We might go out and see it. And have dinner; they seemed really excited about it." Glancing over his guardian and taking a calculated move, he added on: "But I told them you might want me to stay home after I came home so late before, so…" He trailed off, leaving room for the objection that would no doubt come.

"Oh no, no no no no no," she said in a rush, waving him off in a dismissal. "No, you don't have to stay here tonight. If you want to go out to eat and hang out with your friends then that's perfectly okay. Whatever makes you happy, honey, that's perfectly fine with me. Whatever you want." She smiled, clasping her hands together warmly at the sight of her nephew, as if he had suddenly changed into someone much different. But then she paused, blinking as she suddenly started to look him up and down. "…You're wearing the same clothes as you were yesterday?" she asked, tilting her head to the side a little bit.

Hiro looked down quickly, as if he had just realized this himself. "…I must have not changed last night," he said slowly, blinking. "I came back really late last night, so I just…fell asleep in them. I'll change real quick and then I can leave for Wasabi's house. He wanted to show me around before we left….so…."

Aunt Cass blinked, her face falling somewhat. "You're leaving already?" she asked.

"Yeah," Hiro said, a little too quickly. Wincing inwardly, he backtracked. "I mean…yes, yeah I'm gonna try and get to Wasabi's before lunch. He said that he'd make me something. He's uh…he's trying out some new recipes. He cooks, and he wanted me to judge some new stuff. So…" The lies were stringing out of Hiro's mouth as if he wasn't in control of them, more and more accumulating and weighing down on his conscience. He shifted his weight from side to side; why couldn't Cass just leave and let it all lie? The sudden thought — meaner than what the boy usually let cross his mind — was a little disconcerting. But he brushed it aside quickly; he just wanted to be able to leave, that was all. So he shook his head to clear it, coughing briefly before adding on: "I'll get back earlier tonight. I promise."

"Oh…" Cass mumbled, looking at her nephew carefully for a moment. But then she gave a quick nod, brightening at the vow as she smiled. "Okay! I'll see you later then; I'm pretty sure we still have some ice cream in the freezer! Maybe when you get home we can crack it open and have some!" Hiro opened his mouth to reply, but she started up again before he could. "Hey I've got an idea— how about tomorrow night we do something to celebrate? I can make some of your favorite hot wings! You know, the kind that makes your face all numb?" She made a funny face as if to demonstrate this, and Hiro tried to offer yet another forced grin at the action. "We could rent a movie! …Maybe we could start thinking more about registering you for college?" She hesitated briefly before asking this part, and Hiro could see the small, nervous flash that went through her eyes.

Hiro cringed mentally, but on the outside all he did was offer another nervous smile. "Sure. Maybe."

It seemed to be enough for Cass though. The woman gushed; if Hiro didn't know her any better, he would have thought that her eyes were slightly more watery than they normally were as she smiled at him. But before he could try to make sure, she leaned over, wrapping him into a tight hug as she held him close, taking care not to disrupt the plate of food that was still in Hiro's hands. While any other time, the boy would have felt at least a little touched by the embrace, now all he did was stay still, face falling now as he didn't have to force any more smiles. His expression grew sad as he stared over Cass' shoulder to the opposite wall, his head ducking slightly as his shoulders slumped. The facade of happiness and contentment that he put on while talking with Cass slipped faster than he had managed to draw it together in the first place.

He couldn't take this. He didn't want to stand here and lie to Aunt Cass. But he didn't want to just stay here and mope either. He wanted the way that things used to be, he wanted the way that things had been before. He wanted to be happy again, he wanted to get this heavy weight off of him. He wanted Tadashi. The thought caused his eyes to water once more, and he quickly had to swallow everything back as Aunt Cass started to pull back, the boy knowing that if the guardian caught sight of the change, she would only ask more questions. By now every inch of him wanted to just get out of the house— to leave and walk and walk and walk away. Downtown, uptown, anywhere other than here. Just as long as he could get out.

Aunt Cass leaned down and planted a small kiss on his cheek, reaching up to draw a hand lovingly through his hair. She said a few more things, but Hiro wasn't really paying attention, only waiting and watching as the woman gradually turned and went back downstairs. She had tried to offer a ride to Wasabi's house, but Hiro had declined it just like he had last night. But if the woman thought such a thing was shifty, she didn't point it out before heading down to the cafe. It would open soon, and she had to do the last few touches to the place before letting the public inside.

Once she left, Hiro turned around to open his drawers again. He pointedly looked away from where he had hidden the bottle of alcohol, not even glancing over in its direction as he chose out a new outfit to wear. It wasn't really on his list of priorities, but if Aunt Cass glimpsed him coming downstairs in the same attire, she would probably stop him again. So he picked out jeans and a random shirt, keeping his same hoodie on. He thought of bending down to get his other jacket that he had thrown underneath his bed after the night of the fire. It was more comfortable, and it was the thing that he usually wore when he went outside. But as the memory of his dream resurfaced again as he changed, he knew that the last thing he wanted was to put on that specific coat. Besides— his hoodie still had in its front pocket Megabot and the rest of the money that he had won last night and decided to keep.

The boy turned and went down the sets of stairs, skirting around the chairs of the cafe and making his way for the door. Of course he was stopped short by Aunt Cass, the woman reaching out and turning him back around to smile and inform him how glad she was for about the millionth time. She said something about the hot wings again and asked Hiro to tell her how the movie went. Hiro mumbled out what he hoped were good enough responses, staring through his Aunt and quite literally past her as he simply waited for her to finish. And she did, with yet another loving smile and yet another chirp of: "Last hug!" in which she pulled him close to her and kissed the crown of his head again. She didn't ask if he had eaten his waffle and she didn't ask what time exactly he would be home. She just watched her nephew duck out of her arms, the incessant smile remaining on her face as she watched Hiro walk away from the cafe, his hands slipping into the front of his hoodie as he made for what she could only assume was the direction to Wasabi's house. She didn't actually know where the young man lived.

But then again, neither did Hiro.

(•-•)(•-•)(•-•)(•-•)(•-•)(•-•)(•-•)(•-•)(•-•)(•-•)(•-•)(•-•)(•-•)(•-•)(•-•)(•-•)(•-•)(•-•)(•-•)(•-•)(•-•)

He had waited all day. After retracing his steps from last night, Hiro had bided his time for as long as he could, lingering in the alley backlot and simply watching. He'd never been to places like these — places that hosted bot fights — during the day. Predictably, it was void of pretty much anyone. Times were strictly regulated thanks to the possibility of the police showing up, which led to a rather vacant space at noon. Usually bot fights started once the sun went down and the streetlights flickered to life, so the boy took a seat in the one of the corners of the passageway, drawing his legs up to his chest and balancing his chin on the tops of his knees as he sat.

The boy's face was drawn and almost haunted as he leaned against the brick wall, the scenes of his dream replaying in the back of his eyes like a video that couldn't end. The child continuously had to shake his head free of the images, his stomach curling and causing him to feel ill as he thought of Tadashi's panicked face, the way that Hiro hadn't been able to get to his feet to run or to help in any way, the way that as soon as he had started to reach for his older brother they had been forced apart. And the blast…it had sounded just like the one from before, the explosion that had literally ripped his older brother away from him. The thought caused his heart to ache, his chest feeling as though someone were carving through it with a dull knife.

Why hadn't he tried harder to stop Tadashi? Why hadn't he grabbed his brother's arm in a tight vice, clung to his wrist and refused to let go of him? His brother might have decided to go anyway, but with the extra weight that Hiro could have added, there might have been a chance that he wouldn't have made it inside before the explosion. There was a chance that Tadashi could have lived. That he could still be here with him and not somewhere else where Hiro couldn't follow. The teenager grimaced deeply, as if the ideas caused him physical pain, ducking down so that his forehead was plastered to his knees instead. He closed his eyes tightly, curling closer to himself and trying to force his mind away from the incessant thoughts. But they had been occurring for far too long, and after the recent nightmare that the boy had experienced, getting rid of them was like trying to stop it from raining when was cloudy outside.

So he did his best to try and wait it all out. Hiro watched for the sun to go down, passing the hours by merely sitting and staring down at the ground, his back aching from being hunched over and his throat slowly becoming raw from swallowing thickly. It passed quickly enough— Hiro had started to become quite skilled at losing track of time nowadays. It occurred to the fourteen-year-old that had he stayed at home and then departed for downtown like he had yesterday, he would be doing the same thing: just sitting in one spot and staring. At least this way, he didn't worry Aunt Cass. Quite the opposite now, considering the woman was under the impression that he was out with friends now. She was over the moon with her supposed knowledge that her nephew was getting better, or at least starting to move past Tadashi's death.

Hiro was very gifted at lying. He could lock eyes with someone, smile widely, and lie through his teeth. After all, part of the reason that he'd gotten so much money first starting out at bot fights was making it seem like he was some stupid kid way out of his depth, only to really bring truth into the situation once the stakes were high enough for profit. But he didn't like doing it to Aunt Cass. He'd never made a habit out of it before, but now it seemed like it was all he could manage. It had started out as almost simple things. White lies that were answers such as: "Yeah, I'm fine." or "Sure, I'll have something to eat." or "No, I slept well." And now it was just starting to get gradually more out of hand. It didn't really help his morale to know that it was just getting worse. He tried to tell himself that it'd work out eventually. After all, the only reason he was out here was attempting to distract himself, and ultimately for the effort of fixing the things that were in shambles around him. So what if it wasn't along the line of what he'd said in being with friends? When things worked out, it didn't really matter how they got there, after all.

Once the sun set down below the horizon, and once the sounds of traffic out in the main street dwindled down, the crowd started to roll in. Hiro kept to his corner, his knees drawing tighter into his chest as he watched every person that filed in. Those that caught his eye, and those who apparently could connect him to his previous visits, had mixed reactions to his being there. Some grinned and gestured over his way. Others weren't so excited at the prospect of him, looking disappointed or sullen as they shot glares his way. No doubt their hopes of winning with their robots were dashed at the sight of the small kid. But he ignored the reactions to his presence— that wasn't why he was here.

Gradually the backlot, which had been so empty when Hiro had first arrived, filled itself to the brim. People started to gather around in their customary circle near the center of the clearing, and those who had reserved for fights held their fighting robots close to themselves with an eagerness that Hiro had once experienced as well, what seemed like a long time ago. The boy made no move to get up and join as people started to thrum with conversation and pre-bets for what was to conspire. He didn't chime in with his own opinion on who might win tonight, and he didn't even get up to his feet to even sidle a teeny bit closer. In fact, as the first pair of bot fighters took their place sitting on either sides of the circle, Hiro was looking in any other possible direction.

The boy's eyes were narrowed slightly as they skimmed through the crowd gathered, looking almost confused as his head tilted from side to side, stretching his neck awkwardly as he peered around those standing in front of him. He looked from wall to wall, feeling a small sense of frustration starting to curl in his stomach as time stretched on. The first bot fight came to a close— the winner being someone who went on to win three other bot fights before being finally beaten. And all the while Hiro's eyes flickered back and forth, drilling through the mass of people to scour the alley from corner to corner.

He was starting to think that his day was wasted. That being here was stupid and he had just spent so long waiting for absolutely nothing. The boy was getting ready to scream in frustration, to tear out his hair over the entire situation surrounding him. But then his eyes finally caught onto the person he was looking for, the boy freezing immediately as recognition caused his joints to lock together tightly. It was the girl from before— the one that had stopped him on his way back home last night. She was with the same group of people she had been with previously, her eyes trained over in the direction of the bot fights that were taking place. Her mouth moved every so often as she talked with her friends that were standing around her, but she didn't seem to notice if she realized that Hiro was looking her way. And the boy certainly did have his gaze narrowed in on her fixedly.

Surprisingly, after coming all this way in order for this sole purpose, Hiro remained where he was for a moment or two, his eyes slightly widened as he looked down at himself. Moving his arm and reaching into the front pocket of his sweatshirt, Hiro felt the two things that were still stowed inside— Megabot and the money he'd gotten yesterday. He bit his lower lip, hesitating briefly as he remained where he was. He didn't know what kept him there, or what kept him from leaping up to his feet immediately at the sight of the person he had been searching for. He bit down on his lower lip, an uncomfortable expression coming over his features as he agonized where he sat. But he shook his head firmly. It wasn't like he was doing anything bad— he was trying to help things. He wasn't hurting anybody and he certainly wasn't causing any kind of feud or dispute. It was perfectly fine; all of it was.

So after the brief pause, Hiro pushed himself up to his feet. Predictably, his joints protested, his bones squeezing tightly in pain as the boy started to move after being crouched down for so long. But he brushed off the slight discomfort, only giving a soft wince every so often as he sidled around those whose attention was trained firmly on the bot fights in the center of the chaos. He clasped his hands together tightly underneath the cover of his jacket, and he swallowed uncomfortably as he got closer to where the Redhead was loitering. Again, he told himself that it was fine. That nothing was wrong. He wasn't hurting anyone— not in the slightest. It was all fine.

The girl with the tattoo under her eye was laughing at something one of her friends had said, turning over with a wide smirk to look back at the person who had presumably spoken. But as she turned in order to glance back at them, she was cut short as her gaze caught onto Hiro, who was a few mere feet away from her now. She perked as her eyes locked with his own, and Hiro drew himself up quickly at the contact. There was a small beat of silence in the group, the friends that were lingering around Redhead seeming a tad confused at the sight of the young teenager. Redhead, however, didn't even look a tad bit surprised at his appearance.

She grinned a little crookedly, raising her eyebrows. "Hey— Grumpy's back," she laughed. "I was wondering if you'd be here tonight." There was a brief pause, the girl waiting for Hiro to speak, but when the boy started to open his mouth, whatever he had to say was drowned out as the crowd surrounding the ring gave out screams of applause in reaction to something that must have happened during the fight. The boy stiffened with surprise at the sudden roar, but Redhead just grinned wider. "I don't see you out there with your little bot," she commented. "What? You aren't feeling up to par tonight? Certainly kicked some tail the other one."

"What were you doing?" Hiro asked, painfully blunt as Redhead shut her mouth in faint bemusement. But ensuring that any awkwardness was diverted from wasn't really on the boy's list of priorities. Not at the moment, anyway. He shook his head a little bit, backtracking as he tried to correct himself. The rather vague question wasn't all that smart in the first place he realized as the other friends around Redhead eyed him skeptically. "I mean…last night," he said lamely, feeling like the world's biggest idiot. "What did you give me?"

Redhead raised her eyebrows again. The left side of her mouth twitched up to form almost a smile. "Well hello to you too," she quipped, though if it was supposed to be a joke, Hiro didn't respond accordingly. "What— the bottle? It was just some beer; it wasn't anything special, I just grabbed it before I left home." She seemed about to drop the subject, but then she straightened again, another grin working over her lips as she narrowed her eyes Hiro's way in a judgmental stare. "Don't tell me you've never had something like that before!" she exclaimed snidely, and once Hiro didn't make a move to correct her, she gave a short laugh. "Aren't you in high school at least, kid? You can't get through high school without at least sipping a tiny touch of alcohol."

Hiro didn't reply, keeping his lips drawn into a tight line. The answer was obvious of course— he hadn't even experienced anything like what he had the night before. Tadashi would have been caught dead before Hiro had been allowed any kind of things like this; all throughout high school, his free time was spent in the presence of his older brother, and rarely anybody else. He hadn't wanted to know about other kids; he hadn't wanted to go to parties, he hadn't wanted to socialize, and he hadn't wanted…well…anything, really. He spent his time with Tadashi, having his older sibling drive him out for ice cream and spending nights on their separate beds talking about school or activities or things like that. He'd been satisfied with no friends and no social life— he didn't need parties to get through high school and he hadn't needed 'a tiny touch of alcohol.' He'd had Tadashi instead. And now…

The thought caused yet another dull knife to stab into his chest. He ducked his head low in a small wince, attempting to hide the expression that flickered over his face as he reached into his hoodie instead. His hand delved around Megabot, instead clutching tightly onto the paper that was behind the robot. Before he could give himself any other kind of hesitation, any other opportunity for his thoughts to get away from him again, Hiro pulled out the money and jerked his arm forward a little awkwardly to extend over to Redhead. He didn't know the exact amount that was in his hand after he'd donated some to the cash register. But he knew that it was enough, and the boy locked his jaw backwards as his shoulders grew stiff with tension. Not hurting anybody. Not causing any problems. He just needed it. Needed a distraction. Needed a way to stop his chest from being torn apart. That was all.

Redhead's eyes flickered down the money, and there was no mistaking the flash of recognition that went over her features. But when she spoke again, her voice was cool and collected. "Hmmm." She pushed off from the alley wall, offering an excuse to her friends, who merely turned away from the sight as the older girl walked over instead the few feet it took to be closer to Hiro. The fourteen-year-old shifted a little bit, swallowing uncomfortably for the umpteenth time as he started to take his arm back slightly, thinking that he had maybe made a mistake. But once Redhead departed from her friends and came to a stop nearer to him, she reached over, plucking the stack of paper from the boy's hands and looking down in order to sift through the bills.

Hiro waited tensely. Redhead continued to count and recount the stack, the young boy growing more and more on-edge as the silence was stretched. Off to the side, there arose another roaring cheer from the crowd, but once again the fourteen-year-old didn't even spare a glance in its general direction. Desperate to break the silence, he cleared his throat a little bit, shifting his weight from foot to foot briefly. "You said you didn't give hand-outs before," the boy reminded, recalling the girl's own words from the night before. "…This way it isn't a hand-out." There was a second more in which neither of the two spoke, so, in order to break it, Hiro added a little bluntly: "I have money."

"Yeah, I see that," Redhead said eventually, her eyes flashing as she looked up from the papers towards him. "…But this is way more money than what that one bottle cost," she pointed out, the side of her mouth twitching into a smile once more at this. It seemed to be a constant thing with her, Hiro figured as he watched, yet the boy remained tight-lipped, waiting for her to come to her own conclusion with the sum. It was much more than what was initially required— that was the point. All in all, there had to be at least more than twenty that was in Redhead's hands now after he had stored some away in the cafe. Against himself, he knew that had he kept the whole pot he had won last night, then he would most definitely be able to get more from her. And more meant that there was a better chance of it working to full capacity. But he quickly shoved the thought away. No. What he'd done, he'd done for Aunt Cass— and that was fine for him. Twenty-something dollars was good enough for now. Just in order to see if would help him.

Redhead nodded, biting down on her lower lip as she surveyed the boy as if he were some piece of work. She rocked back on her heels and sifted through the money in her hands without looking down at it. "I get it," she said with an almost solemn kind of nod. "You want some help." Hiro didn't reply, not really enjoying the choice of words as he had to hold back a scowl. "How old are you?" Redhead asked eventually, the question catching the boy slightly off-guard as he stumbled a little bit mentally.

There was a question in the back of his mind on whether or not to lie. Or at least exaggerate it a little bit— maybe stretch his age by maybe a few years. He could say he was sixteen. Or even seventeen. But he certainly didn't look the part with his short stature, and since he was asking for this kind of help in the first place he might as well be as honest as was required. He didn't like the look in Redhead's eyes— he knew that the possibility of being shot down was more than likely with the way he was going for this. And so far, she seemed to be his only option in this kind of thing. The only easy one, at least. And so far even this wasn't looking to be a walk in the park.

"I'm fourteen," he mumbled, withdrawn slightly as he answered. Redhead nodded again, continuing to look him up and down. She had sorted through the money that had been handed to her many times so far, and if that wasn't enough to get her to do this one thing for him, he didn't know what else could. What would happen if she refused him? What would he do if she shoved the money back to him and told him to try someone else? He would be stuck like this, having nightmares or staying awake for hours on end, staring outside of windows and feeling like this whenever he thought of Tadashi. His throat swelled shut on itself as he thought of this, and he sucked in a quick breath, feeling a dash of desperation as he stumbled forward with his words.

"It wouldn't be— it's just that—" Redhead raised her eyebrows skeptically as the boy choked on his words a little bit. He closed his eyes for a moment, trying to collect himself and draw himself back in. The idea of rejection and the idea of being stuck in this rut was enough to make him scream. So he forced himself to pause briefly before going on. "I have money for you," he said, choosing his words carefully now as he spoke slower. "All I'm asking of you is to go to the gas station or something…" He trailed off for a second. He grimaced, reaching up and rubbing at his forehead a little painfully. "I just need some help in forgetting…something…and I can't buy it on my own. But I'm guessing you can." The girl certainly looked over twenty-one.

"'Forgetting?'" Redhead parroted, quirking a brow at the choice of words. Hiro dropped his arm to his side with a small slap, looking up and meeting her gaze but not replying audibly. She pursed her lips, looking down and filing through the bills one last time. She seemed much more thoughtful now, but there was once again a trace of that lopsided sort of smile on her lips. And after yet another beat of silence, she looked up from the money and down to the younger child. "Alright then, Hiro," she said then, turning and pocketing the money that would cover the needed drinks and then some. Hiro stiffened in surprise, his eyes widening slightly at the idea that this had worked. "If that's what ya want." She paused for a second, looking over at him expectantly.

Hiro's mind was dragged backwards. He thought of the way that Tadashi always woke her up by poking his nose whenever Hiro slept in on accident. He thought of the way that Tadashi would always smile at him even when the boy was obviously on his last nerve, and he remembered that way his older brother always looked down at him and said: "I'm not giving up on you." He thought of the last expression he had seen on his brother's face— a pained kind of look that had drilled through Hiro even in that first moment as meaning something horrible and awful. He thought of his empty bedroom that he had to return to day in and day out, the way that Tadashi's things were untouched and abandoned. Hiro thought of the hat that his brother always wore that was now useless as it was seated atop of the vacant bed. He thought of his dream that he'd had— the way he'd woken up in sweat and tears, and how Tadashi, who would normally have leapt to his feet and rushed over to his little brother's side, was not there to comfort him.

He shut his eyes tightly as if to block out the thoughts that nearly ended up leaving him winded and gasping for air. And instead he nodded his head before he could go even more off-tangent. "Yes." He said, spitting out the single word in something akin to pain as he sealed his plea. "Yes, I want it." Then, desperate once again, he added on: "Please."

But Redhead didn't seem fazed by the boy's emotions. She only snickered and straightened up quickly, clapping her hands together as if she had just made some sort of accomplishment. "Right then." She grinned. "Let's help you forget."

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Hiro waited. Again. The boy sat on the side of a curb, the street in front of him vacant and empty at this time of night. He wished that there was a clock somewhere around here— though at this rate, the later he got home, the better probably. The boy kept his knees closely pressed to his chest, his brown eyes flashing continuously over to the store that was spaced a ways away from him where Redhead had vanished nearly ten minutes ago. The brightly-lit liquor store was still open— its closing hours probably coincided with the weekends, so at least that wasn't any kind of issue in the grand scheme of it all. But the idea didn't really help quell the boy's nerves as Hiro continuously shifted his weight back and forth, reaching up every so often to run slightly shaking hands through his dark hair. Redhead had vanished into the store what felt like hours ago. Why wasn't she back yet?

Maybe she had taken a back way out of the store. Skipped out on him and took the money instead. The idea caused the boy's stomach to knot, and he almost got up to his feet, inclined to go over and enter the store himself. Certainly it wouldn't take this long to just pick something out of random? Money wasn't the issue in buying things, so what was the delay? Hiro wasn't even sure if he was allowed in the store in the first place— his height often got his age mistaken as younger in the first place, so he was more than sure his being inside of an alcohol-only store would raise a few questions.

Before he could decide to do it anyway, Hiro's train of thought was cut short as the door down the street opened again. Sure enough, the girl from before was making her way back towards him, and at her sides were two grocery bags. She turned and started heading Hiro's way, and the teenager immediately jumped up to his feet, stomach flipping as he clasped his hands anxiously in front of him. The bags that the girl held bore the logo of the store, he realized. He couldn't very well bring that inside the cafe without having Aunt Cass see it. But maybe if he turned them inside out…

"Here," Redhead chirped, skirting around a trash can and rounding over in order to meet the boy where he stood. "I got you some stuff— not sure if you'll like the taste, but if 'forgetting' is what you're going for…" She trailed off with that smirking kind of look, holding out the bags for Hiro to take. The teenager paused uncertainly for a second, eyeing the plastic briefly before reaching over and taking it in his own grip. The weight that came inside of the bags felt far more than was truly there, the teenager flinching a little as he adjusted to the burdens.

Inside each bag was a full pack of alcohol— glass bottles much like the one from last night had been. Twelve in all, which seemed excessive. But given the amount of money he had handed Redhead in the first place, it wasn't unfounded for the girl to assume to buy more than one set. The label that was on the glass didn't seem to match the one that he'd had last night. But according to Redhead that didn't serve as any kind of issue. And it wasn't like Hiro had a set thing in mind to follow through with. And taste didn't matter to him; it was the effect that he was trying to reach for. As long as he was given that, he would be more than okay.

As Hiro peered down into the bag, Redhead cleared her throat. "There's about nine dollars left in change for you," she said. "I was gonna get you another pack, but I didn't really know how much you wanted." Redhead said this with a small shrug, watching the teenager as he eventually looked up from the inside of the bags. She reached back into her pocket, drawing out the change and its respective coins and starting to hand them back over to the small teenager. But the boy shook his head at the attempt, not making a move to reach over for the money.

"No, that's fine," he said quickly, holding the bags closer to himself as he took a small step back. "Y-You can keep the change, it's okay. Consider it a thank-you. 'Cause you didn't really have to do this in the first place. So…" He ended with a small, light shrug. Nine dollars wasn't much in the first place, anyway. What would he be able to do with only nine dollars? He bit down on his lower lip, breathing out a little slowly as he cleared his throat with a shade of difficulty. "…so…thank you," he concluded a little lamely, acutely remembering the last time that he had truly thanked someone. The thought caused a sharp pang to rock the boy, and he had to force himself not to rip open one of the bottles he had been given right at that moment. Instead he coughed, looking down at his feet and trying to focus on not blinking. Any excess movement like that would cause the water that was slowly stinging at his eyes to overflow down the sides of his face, and he wasn't about to let that happen. Not right now.

"No problem, sport," Redhead smirked, turning back and pocketing the change that was now deemed hers. She glanced down at the watch that was on her wrist— Hiro thought of leaning out to the side in the attempt to see how late it had gotten himself. But the boy was too focused on what he now held in his hands, and so he missed his chance as the girl lowered her arm with a slight sigh. "Well— I should be heading off if that's all you needed," she sighed.

"Yeah. Yeah, that's all I needed," the boy mumbled, not looking up from the contents inside of the bag.

There was a brief pause.

Then: "You know, if you're looking to forget things, I'm not sure how long that batch'll last you," Redhead stated, as if the fact were a simple one. Hiro looked up, confused at the sudden change on her part. But the girl had already turned, reaching into her other pocket and drawing out a pen. "Usually I just use this to write down the bets my friends and I make on those bot fights," she said, reaching over and grabbing Hiro's arm, rolling up the sleeve of his sweatshirt and ignoring the boy's small noise of surprise. "But this is a little exception," she said, uncapping the pen and starting to scribble down on Hiro's arm.

The teenager grimaced at the dig of the pen, gnashing his teeth together uncomfortably at the pressure. Once Redhead was done and over with her scribbling, she drew back, a satisfied look on her face as she looked at what she had done. And Hiro was quick to make the connection himself as he found that a set of numbers had been scrawled down across his limb. Seven digits— a phone number. He opened his mouth to say something, looking surprised by the sudden gesture that had been given to him. But Redhead spoke first, smiling again as she tapped the pen's heel against the written digits. "Call me when you need something else," she said, Hiro not mistaking the usage of the word 'when' rather than the use of 'if'. "I'll be quick to help," she added, as if they were talking about simple tasks such as helping replace a light bulb in the basement.

Hiro didn't say anything, only staring down at his arm almost blankly. He didn't look up when Redhead said her goodbye, he didn't offer his own as the girl turned to leave, and he didn't even glance up to watch as the older girl walked back down the street the way that the two had come. He just stood standing stock-still, brown eyes trained fixedly on the phone number that was scribbled across his arm, the weight that was now held in one hand representing far more than what had first been anticipated.

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It was dark when Hiro got back home. The lights of the cafe were shut down, and the front door was locked again. Routinely almost, the teenager doubled back behind the building, using the back entrance that was once again left unlocked for him and then proceeding to lock it up right after him. Ensuring that it was closed properly, Hiro made quick work in turning the bags inside out, just in case Aunt Cass was waiting for him upstairs. Once again, the day's events had left the boy sapped and drained of any energy, Hiro's feet tripping over themselves every so often in their weariness as he rounded the passageway to go up the first sets of stairs.

He thought that he would get away with it two nights in a row. The lights were all off upstairs, so he continued on under the impression that Aunt Cass had gone to sleep like she had the evening before. But the situation should have come across far luckier than the boy deserved. On his way up he had made the mistake of forgetting to skip over the creaky stair, the small sound causing the boy to freeze in his tracks and curse himself mentally. He had to pay more attention, otherwise—

"Hiro?"

The boy cringed, gritting his teeth together so hard that for a moment he was blinded by the pain that it caused. But then he sighed through his nose, shaking his head and forcing his back to straighten, a fake smile plastering over his face as he forced himself to brighten. Going up the rest of the stairs and emerging into the living room, he saw that Cass was standing near the couch, one hand out as she flickered on a lamp fixed in place beside the piece of furniture. Her eyes were narrowed, slightly bleary, which showed how tired the woman was. But she was sharp as her eyes immediately found Hiro's, and the boy did his best to upkeep the fake grin as he stood on the landing. "Hiro— what are you doing?" Cass demanded, turning and glancing at the clock mounted on the wall. "Do you have any idea what time it is?"

She sounded near furious. Hiro forced himself to calm down, to hold the bags closer to himself, slightly behind his legs in the attempt to curb attention from it. The plastic was darker on the inside of the bags— Cass wouldn't be able to make sense of what it was unless she peered too closely at them. If she even recognized the logo in the first place. But the boy wasn't about to take that risk in any way, shape, or form. So he attempted to look guilty— which wasn't that hard to do in the first place. "Aunt Cass— I thought you would be asleep by now," he said, the guardian not looking moved at the confession as she continued to stare him down. She was obviously waiting for an explanation. And he was expected to give her one. Great. "I'm sorry. I was just out late with them again, I didn't mean to let it happen for a second time; I really didn't."

"Do you have any idea how worrying it is to be waiting for you like this?" Cass demanded, Hiro looking off to the side with a saddened expression as she launched into her lecture. The woman raised a hand up to her temple, obviously having been worried sick prior to the boy's entrance into the home. "I don't know whether or not you're in trouble or whether or not something happened to you or whether or not I should go out and try to look for you! You really scared me, do you realize that? I was this close to calling you into the police and have them be out looking for you!" Hiro froze at this. "I didn't have any of the other kids' phone numbers so I couldn't call them and I couldn't call you because it was always Tadashi that had the—" She cut herself off immediately at this, freezing, as if what she had said was the equivalent to something mortifying, like taking Mochi and tossing him out the second-story window.

Hiro closed his eyes tightly at this, his stomach sinking. "…I'm sorry, Aunt Cass," he mumbled, his words barely above a whisper.

Cass glanced down at her feet, biting her lower lip briefly. Then she took in a quick breath, shaking her head and looking back up. "You're not allowed out tomorrow night," she said, already sounding apologetic in the punishment. It was a hard thing to do considering that these two nights had been the first of Hiro's in getting out and doing something. But he had promised that this time he would be back earlier— and technically it wasn't even Friday anymore. She had given him free reign of curfew the night before, but this was pushing it now. "Okay?" Then, almost like she was trying to reconcile with the boy, who only seemed to grow every more frustrated at this, she said: "We can stay in and have hot wings. Maybe rent a movie?"

"Fine," Hiro said blankly, still looking over to the side.

Silence. Then: "…What's in the bags?"

Hiro's throat closed in on itself. The boy stopped short slightly, scrambling as he realized that he should have had an answer planned for this very question. The notion that he hadn't anticipated the inquiry was almost mind-boggling in how idiotic it was. The teenager paused a moment, looking back down at the plastic that he held in his right hand, tucked just slightly behind his legs. It looked generic enough. Unsuspecting. But if Cass knew that was inside, she would certainly explode. Probably all over the walls. It wasn't something she could understand, after all. And she wouldn't dare let him even attempt at trying to explain. So he took in a quick breath, and, hoping that it would match his story from before, offered out the best lie he could think of in the moment. "Leftovers. From what Wasabi cooked for me."

"Oh," Cass said, seeming to latch onto the change in topic. "…Was it good?" She tried. "What's in there?"

"Just…some food— look, I'm tired, Aunt Cass," Hiro said, quickly shaking off the leading conversation and trying not to notice how deflated the guardian became as her nephew outright rejected her attempt. "I just want to go to bed now. Okay?" He reached up with his free hand to scrub at his face with a weary expression. "I'm sorry for worrying you," the boy said in a small sigh, already turning to go up the next set of stairs. "It won't happen again."

"Hiro, wait." Aunt Cass said, looking pained as she started after him, reaching out a little hesitantly. The boy stopped on the first stair, frowning as he had one foot raised to keep on going. "I'm sorry," she said, putting one hand down lightly on his shoulder. Hiro didn't react, and she paused a little worriedly before hedging onward. "…I know how hard this has been on you, honey. It's been hard enough for me, but it must be so much worse for you." Hiro didn't look back at her, staring straight up the steps instead as his eyes started to sting, the boy's grip on the railing tightening so much that his knuckles were bleached white from the effort. But if Aunt Cass noticed, she didn't let the details stop her as she kept going. "But you're such a strong little guy, Hiro. And I know that no matter what happens, you'll be able to get through it. You know that too, right?" Hiro swallowed thickly and did not reply. He didn't even turn around. "It just hurts me so much to see you upset," Cass murmured softly, barely speaking by now. "I love you so much. And all I want is to see you happy again…" She trailed off in her words, watching her nephew tensely as she waited for a reaction.

But Hiro only ducked his head. He didn't open his mouth to speak— for he was certain that if he even tried to get out a syllable, his voice would crack in on itself pathetically. He shifted to the side, shrugging his shoulder out from underneath Cass' hand and starting up the steps quickly to leave the woman behind. Cass' face fell immediately as the boy rushed away from her, and she brought her arm back quickly to herself, as if she had been burned. Hiro reached up with his free hand to rub at his eyes, wiping away streaks of water as he hurried away from his guardian. Cass did a double-take for a moment, starting up as if to follow him. But as Hiro rounded the corner away from her and into his room, she held back, knowing that it wouldn't help anything at all. It would just make things worse if she went upstairs now.

An immense amount of guilt clouded over the woman's gaze, and she pressed the heels of her hands into her forehead as she gave out a small sigh that came out more as a whimper. She had just messed up— she could have just ruined everything that Hiro had worked through in these possible two days he'd been with his friends. She would try to make it right, she had to make things right. The thought of her nephew — who she had more than adopted and loved as if he were her own son — being this wrecked, this upset, was enough to send her reeling. Heaving out another sigh to calm herself, and forcing herself to refrain from following Hiro at the moment, Cass turned away and started back towards her room. With a heavy heart, and even heavier sense of burden on her shoulders, the woman turned on her way back, twisting to the side and switching off the table-side lamp beside the couch, leaving the house to shroud itself in darkness.

'I know you can get through this.'

Hiro wished for nothing more than a door in the entryway of his room as he rushed upstairs, aching for the need to slam something shut and have a barrier in between him and the rest of the world. Coming up from the stairs, Hiro literally threw the bags he held in his hands onto the bed, the young teenager's hands shaking as they raised up to press against his forehead. He turned, his eyes locking onto the other end of the room, the boy able to picture clearly the way that Tadashi would have immediately sat straight up upon such an arrival of the boy's. Hiro's shoulders jerked up and down unevenly, the boy's breathing escalating into a hyperventilation as his head spun, evoking dizziness. Tadashi would have sprung forward, literally throwing himself at Hiro as he grabbed at the boy's shoulders, frantically asking what was wrong, what he could do to help. But that was the problem. It was the root of the problem.

'You're such a strong little guy, Hiro.'

The boy ducked his head, frustration bottling itself in the back of his throat as he gave out a small sob. Tears made hot trails down the sides of his cheeks, and he slowly found that his legs couldn't support him as his knees began to buckle. Feeling pathetic and lost and hopeless, the teenager could hardly bear to try and stifle any noises that might alert Aunt Cass that anything was wrong. He was only swamped with grief, with depression. 'And I know that no matter what happens, you'll be able to get through it.' His shoulders hunched forward, and he sobbed brokenly into the palms of his hands.

"Why did you have to go and do that?" he whimpered, looking up and peering through the water in his eyes to stare brokenly at the now-blurred sight of Tadashi's empty bed. "Why did you have to go into that fire? Why couldn't you just…" His breath hitched slightly and a deep frown etched itself into his features as he slowly he shook his head from side to side, hanging his head once more as he flinched away the sight in front of him. "…I miss you…Tadashi," he whimpered underneath his breath. "I miss you so much…" He whispered. "…And I just can't…"

Hiro couldn't finish the sentence. His throat wouldn't allow it as it swelled shut on him. A bubble of furious anguish started to choke him and the boy locked back his jaw, turning around and looking back at his bed. Another expression shrouded over the boy as his eyes narrowed, his hands balling into tight fists as he scowled deeply. The fourteen-year-old pushed himself up to his feet, staggering slightly in his rush as he flew to the bags, yanking out of the packs of bottles and dropping it onto his covers. His hands shaking and trembling, Hiro's face clouded over into an expression of something akin to anger, the teenager tearing out one of the bottles of alcohol and ripping off its cap without even bothering to wrap it up in a cloth first. The skin of his hand was sliced painfully at the boy's rampant movements, but he didn't pay any kind of heed. He just proceeded to throw aside the cap, feeling sick as he quickly ducked down to throw back a large gulp of the dark-colored liquid that was inside of the glass.

Immediately, the taste burned through his mouth, bitter and awful as he lowered the drink, closing his eyes tightly as he gagged on the flavor. But he didn't let the trivial detail stop him, the boy only shaking his head firmly before downing another gulp. He forced down mouthful after mouthful of the acrid liquid, impelling his throat to work down the alcohol despite its trained motive to force back up the foul stuff. Slowly, Hiro sank back down into a sitting position, drawing his knees close to himself as he pressed his back up against the bed. Bitter as the taste was, the pure strength of the alcohol was apparent the longer he drank. With each added gulp, and with each added swig of the liquor, the warm feeling that he had experienced the night before started to return, replacing the harrowing feeling that carved at his chest before. His hands stopped trembling and shaking, and each small sob that worked its way out of the boy's throat was quieter than the one before it until the sound ceased to exist at all.

And when one was finished off, he drank down another one, growing numb not only to the awful taste that had prolonged him before, but also growing numb to everything else. A sense of calm and peace replaced the aching sense of loss and agony that he had been fostering— the boy feeling as if a warm blanket had been applied to him on a cold winter night. His mind grew fuzzy and dark, clouded and incoherent as he came to the end of his second bottle. The teenager's eyes were half-lidded now, slightly vacant. There wasn't a sense of pain in the depths of his gaze as he stared straight forward, and there wasn't any more hiccupping sounds of grief or sadness. His shoulders had stopped in their uneven shakes, and even the tears, which had seemed never-ending before, only came across as small leaks every now and then. Instead, two bottles having been emptied now, two bottles having muffled everything around him, the teenager sank, crumbling to the ground and landing on his side with a small thud.

Sprawled against the wooden floor, Hiro was just a small heap, unmoving and limp. In his slack hand rested one of the bottles loosely; the other had rolled away from him once he fell down to the ground. He should have gotten up to hide the evidence. If Aunt Cass came upstairs and saw the sight, she would certainly freak out even more. But he couldn't scrounge up the effort to pick himself up from the ground; he couldn't manage the will to get up and tuck away the bottles in the similar fashion he had done before. His head was left swimming from that large intake of alcohol, and his stomach was more that sensitive at the moment— lying down was the only possible option.

Instead, he curled forward, his movements robotic and slow as he tucked down close to himself, his glazed eyes falling shut as he succumbed to sleep— something he normally would be unable to do. The boy sank into unconsciousness, not hindered by coherent thought anymore, and not sidetracked by midnight worries or agonies. He didn't glance over to Tadashi's things, and he didn't even stop to think about his dream, which the boy had been unable to stop dwelling over since this morning. There was nothing except the fuzzy sense of unconsciousness, which was relieving; it was peaceful. The numbness brought with it a sense of muffled serenity. Numbness was preferred. It was satisfying. It was enough to let the boy relax.

And that was all he needed…

He just needed to relax…

Relax…


	3. Chapter 3

The hustle and bustle of the cafe was a light drone filling the building up to the brim. Weekends were the busiest times for the bakery to undertake— especially during the afternoon or during the evening. That was when the crowds — mostly young adults or teenagers — came in by the handful; yet the business wasn't helped by the fact that Aunt Cass sometimes had the tendency to go overboard with her efforts in pleasing the mass that came in and out. Like right now: she was attempting to juggle about five coffees, two hot chocolates, and about six different pastries. Granted that after being in charge of the place by herself for years upon years, she was very gifted at those kinds of feats. But many of the patrons inside of the eatery were openly nervous, eyeing the woman with tense sort of grins as they waited for their own order to be received in a similar haphazardly-strewn way.

Hiro had dragged up a stool to the cash register, sitting with a silent manner in front of the machine. Deftly, he took money for the purchases that were made, typing out and completing the necessary transactions. Some of the customers — those that were often seen and given the title of: 'Regulars' — attempted to make conversation with the young boy as he worked, commenting that they hadn't seen him up and about for quite some time, or that they were so excited to be seeing him helping Aunt Cass again. They were many who tried to push for some kind of chat; Mrs. Matsuda went so far as to offer him up the idea of giving him a ticket to the newest play that was taking place down at the theatre. The old woman claimed that she had an extra voucher to the show, and would "quite enjoy the company of an old friend" rather than going alone.

But Hiro only returned each offer at conversation with a thin-lipped smile and a small mumble or two. It wasn't a very satisfactory reply, or even a remotely pleasing one, but the teenager wasn't very much in the mood for anything more. It was enough that he had gotten himself down here and offered his hand at helping run the bakery in the first place. And he had truly only done it in the first place to try and please Aunt Cass. As the thought crossed his mind, his eyes flickered up to find the woman as he shut the door of the register. Sure enough, the brunette was still rushing to and fro, all smiles and laughs as she spoke with each customer that she passed.

She started to look up slightly, and in doing so, her gaze caught Hiro's own. The woman stilled for a moment, seeming almost surprised as their eyes met. But as she straightened, her smile seemed to waver for a moment at the expression that was on Hiro's face. The teenager was obviously detached— not putting effort or enjoyment into the job that he had adopted at the head of the store. Usually, throughout his record in the past, Hiro had been taken with the concept of helping in the cafe, making great fun out of the simple chores that had been offered to him. He had even invented the straw dispenser that was over by the beverages when he was only fix or six. But it was clear by the look that was on his face that it was no such case anymore.

After managing to hold her gaze for more than a few minutes, Hiro ducked away. Instead, he forced himself to focus only on what he was doing. He put far more concentration into the simple movements of his arm, more absorbed in the act of counting the bills and returning change than was probably needed. He had a splitting headache that had centered itself firmly behind his eyelids, and every time that the cash register opened with a loud clang, it caused a throb of pain to rip through his temple. He tried his best to ignore it, just like he was everything else, but it was a hard thing to accomplish with the mere severity that came across with the ailment.

But it wasn't so much the headache that was bothering him— he'd been grounded for a week. True that the night seven nights ago had entailed Aunt Cass forbidding him only one day of going out. And that simple punishment enough had seemed to make her upset. But every day following that, whenever Hiro had even hinted at the idea of stepping out of the house, Aunt Cass had made a pointed attempt to keep him centered inside the building; and she succeeded with everyone. Not because Hiro didn't see her motive when she asked help with cleaning or asked him what he wanted for dinner, or volunteered ice cream, or offered to play a board game with him until the child responded in the correct way— because it was always painfully obvious that the woman was only going to such lengths in order to keep him from leaving. But it was because mostly Hiro felt bad and didn't know what to do; he wanted to refrain as much as he could from outright rejecting her. The boy always — albeit wearily — accepted her efforts without too much bitterness, stopping in every effort to leave and walking reluctantly back to his guardian instead. Like he had today in the example of working the cash register.

But he was gradually and quickly running out of patience. The longer he stayed inside, the tenser he began to get— the jitterier. The walls seemed to press in on him at all sides, and he felt almost claustrophobic in the grand scheme of everything. The conversations among the cafe tables seemed amplified and much louder than it had been ever before. Aunt Cass always seemed too upset, too stressed, even when Hiro did all that he could in his power to do what she wanted. He played her games, he helped her cook, he watched her movies, and he tried his best to appear interested and invested whenever she took to relaying the gossip that she'd heard that day in the cafe. But nothing seemed to work, and the longer things went on, there seemed to be more pressure adding onto his chest, the weight getting heavier and heavier each day and making it harder to breathe. Even now, sitting in front of the cash register and doing simple addition or subtraction as he returned change seemed difficult if not almost impossible to sit through without fidgeting or running his hands through his hair with a frustrated groan. He couldn't stay like this— he couldn't.

He'd gone through everything that had been given to him by Redhead in the span of this week. The numbers may have seemed alarming to him before, however now he was just more high-strung in the face of it. The number that had been written on his arm had long since vanished— it hadn't lasted very long at all before it was washed away. However the boy had taken care to write down the digits as soon as he had woken up the morning after the thing had been given. The series of numbers had been scrawled down on a scrap of paper before being tucked away neatly in the back of his desk drawer. He'd been tempted to call numerous times, but he always refrained.

He told himself it was for the sole reason that Aunt Cass seemed to be hanging over him more excessively than she had before. But in the back of his mind he knew that he was afraid. He knew that he was frightened of the idea of calling the number— not only because he wasn't even sure whether or not it was actually real, but also because he knew what he would be getting into if he did pick up a phone. Hiro was more than aware of what Redhead had been addressing when she offered him her phone number and her assistance as well; it was more than obvious. The idea of initiating this was frightening, yet the idea of what it would bring to him was guiltily satisfying in every sense of the word.

He needed to call her, he decided. Soon. More than soon, if anything of the sort came across as possible. He'd run out of the stock that had been given to him seven days ago, and it was showing in the boy's worn demeanor, the dulled look in his eyes as he stared despondently through the actions that he was performing. The feeling had been carving into his chest once more, and his throat felt raw and swollen all the time, as if he had just finished screaming for three hours straight. Everything he saw reminded him of Tadashi — the hallway where his brother had given him a piggy-back ride, the desk where Tadashi had stooped over to help him through an evening of homework, the dining table where Tadashi, Hiro, and Aunt Cass had spent many nights laughing and talking, the garage where Tadashi had helped and watched him create the Microbots. He couldn't take it. He'd been withholding himself as much as he could, but he had run out of alcohol Wednesday night. And since then things had only gotten worse with each passing day.

Hiro kept silent and morose, not even bothering to reply to customers who approached him anymore as he simply tried to focus on adding up bills and finding prices. There was a crestfallen, sorrowful look and feel to the teenager as he handled the money, but if Aunt Cass noticed the mood of the boy, she didn't approach him. Instead the two of them worked, separately of course and not speaking even when the older guardian passed close by him a few times, until the rushes of the day started to dwindle. Usually there was a dip in the activity around 4:00 or 5:00 — then the afternoon rush changed to the evening rush around 6:00 or 6:30.

Pretty soon the cafe managed to become empty for the first time in the entire day, Hiro looking up with almost a slight start as he realized that all the tables were left empty. He'd managed to become almost oblivious while taking orders and accepting money in return, and the teenager blinked rapidly as his back straightened. Aunt Cass was over by the far window, wiping down a rather dirty-looking table with a rag. Hiro could smell the disinfectant on the cloth from where he sat, and in the attempt to try and stifle the odor — which was rather prominent now since she had apparently cleaned up the rest of the tables with the same substance — Hiro pulled down one of his sweatshirt sleeves, leaning over and ducking his head so that he could clamp the cloth over his nose.

The child balanced his head there, staring down dimly at the countertop, more or less staring through it. He listened to the small noises that made themselves apparent— the ticking of the clock on the wall, the hum of traffic outside, the whirring of the coffee machine that was seated towards the back of the bakery. For a few moments that seemed far longer than it probably was, there was nothing except the subtle sounds of everyday life and the smell of the bakery around him; the odor of coffee and sugar and baked goods came across as suddenly too sweet— it made the boy's hollow stomach cave even more in on itself.

But then there was a small cough, and Aunt Cass was suddenly speaking. Hiro was roused at the sudden interruption, looking up from the counter and dropping his arm with a small plunk onto its hard surface. The woman had turned over to him by now, but she remained where she was by the table. She wrung the cleaning rag a little nervously in her hands, and that didn't really help stifle the awful smell that was slowly adding itself to the mixture of scents, mingling among the cakes and baked goods in a rather unpleasant way. "Hiro…" she started a little slowly, obviously hesitant as the teenager took to merely staring at her in his consistently-silent manner, features void of any kind of emotion. She paused briefly as she held the young man's empty gaze, but then she shook her head, starting to walk forward towards him. "…any plans to go out tonight?" she asked tentatively.

Hiro deadpanned her way, though a small hint of bitter anger seeped through his voice when he said: "I thought I was grounded."

Cass seemed hurt at the response— it obviously wasn't what she was hoping the reply to be. She coughed in the back of her throat, looking put-out as she came to a stop at the other end of the counter. "I never said that you were…" She started an attempt to defend herself, but under the remote stare of her nephew, she was apparently rendered unable. Instead she paused for a second more, glancing down at the ground before looking back up to shake her head. "No, no, you can go out tonight. It's okay. I-I'll let you, if that's what you want." 'If that's what will make you happy.' She didn't voice this choice of words, but it was obvious from her tone that that was what she had truly wanted to say instead.

Hiro remained staring at her, blank and unresponsive. A long beat of silence passed, as if Aunt Cass was waiting for a response. He tried thinking of one to give her, and regrettably the first thing that came to mind was the issue of his curfew. The later he could come home the better— it was luck that he had managed to get the bags past his guardian before, and luck had a tendency to run out. He was also lucky that Aunt Cass hadn't found any of the bottles in his room, but then again he had been smarter with that aspect of things. He'd taken to stashing them away in every available hiding spot in his room: under clothes in his drawers, at the bottom of the chest at the foot of his bed, in one of his desk drawers, places discreet like that. Cass wouldn't find them unless she turned his bedroom upside down.

"But," Aunt Cass said, cutting through the boy's thoughts yet again as he perked. The woman turned, walking along the counter and towards the back half of the room, Hiro swiveling on the stool's seat in order to watch her skeptically. She went towards the shelf that was near the stairs, fishing out her purse, which she left tucked away in the back of the drawer. Mostly it was to ensure that no customers who tended to wander away from the actual restaurant and into their home wouldn't find it lying around. Stealing wasn't a major issue with the majority of people that came by— the action of hiding the thing was mainly a cautionary tale. But then again, one could never be too careful in the city.

She fished something out from her bag, a small, rectangular box. She held it in her hands gingerly, and it was clear in the way that she walked back to him that whatever she held, it was something important. Her steps were light and careful as she skirted back to her nephew, and by now Hiro had fully straightened, paying more attention to what was happening now for once. And when Aunt Cass came back and stopped, when she extended her arm over to the boy, he was almost confused as he accepted the package and stared down at it.

"When I call you, I want you to pick up," Aunt Cass said, stern as she watched Hiro inspect the packaged mobile phone that she had just handed him. He turned the box upright, opening it as he broke the seal carefully. And he turned it upside down, sliding out the device and stashing the box away so that he could hold the thing in both hands. It was small, and it felt much more fragile that he'd anticipated. What Aunt Cass had said before was right— it was only Tadashi who had a phone before. Hiro had always been with his brother, so the point was rather moot on whether or not the younger should have one as well. Such an idea would be a waste of money. Tadashi always seemed so careless about his own when he had it, though— it never seemed like a cellphone should be nearly this breakable.

"You can stay out as long as you need to, but you need to answer when I call. If you don't, then we'll have a problem. Do you understand me?" She was being strict now, which was a rare sight for someone as gentle and loving as Cass. There was even a hint of anger laced in her tone, which showed that she had truly been affected by the past few times where he hadn't shown up. There was a part of him that was guilty in the face of such a thing, but the other half of him was too caught up in looking at the new phone, racing with the ideas and opportunities that were surfacing with the simple device. When he didn't reply for a moment or two, too busy staring down at the cell, Aunt Cass pressed again. "Do you hear me, Hiro?" she demanded. "I want you to answer when I call you, okay? And you know my own number, right? So you can call me if you have any trouble. …right?"

He finally caught on, looking up and giving a nod. "Yeah. Sure. Yeah, I can. I will."

Aunt Cass nodded. "…Okay." She said softly after another pause. She didn't look all that reassured though, but then she shook herself, as if she were shrugging off the issue as best she could. She smiled down at her nephew instead, a painful, weighted-down kind of grin as he didn't seem to get any brighter. "Do you think that your friends would want to hang out with you tonight? I'm sure they would— they must have missed you this week." They had indeed missed him; he knew that for a fact. However the knowledge didn't come from the 'fun' that he had claimed to have with them before. The knowledge came from the obscene amount of videos and messages from the group that was slowly piling up onto his computer questioning his absence from them.

"I could call them, yeah," he said. Though his voice must have been too hollow, lacking any sort of real excitement, for Aunt Cass didn't look very comforted by his words. Finding it unfair to his aunt, who was obviously just trying to help as much as she could, he forced out a smile- one that stretched over his face in what he hoped was a genuine-looking beam. "Thank you. Aunt Cass. I— I appreciate all that you're doing for me. I really do. I'm sorry for…" He paused for a second, biting down on his lower lip as he glanced back at the phone. He shrugged limply, shaking his head instead of finishing his thought as he found himself grasping at nothing.

Cass offered a small smile again, though this time it was painfully sad now. She leaned over, reaching out and running a hand lovingly through his dark hair. "…I love you," she murmured softly. "So much. Okay? I'm sorry that I got angry with you. I know you must be so upset now. And…if being out late with friends is what makes you happy, then I'm not going to stand in your way. Because that will make you happy, and then that'll make me happy. I just need to be able to call you when you're out like that, okay? Alright? I need to know you're being safe." Hiro tightened his hold on the small phone in his hand as she said this, his throat feeling like he had just swallowed down a white-hot iron. But he nodded all the same.

His aunt hugged him tightly, ducking her head and pressing it down briefly into his shoulder. She repeated her statement of love again, as if she were just reminding the boy of the fact before he could have the chance to forget. Hiro just nodded, hesitantly drawing out his own arms to wrap them around the woman's waist. At the front of the store, the bell rang as the door was pushed open and a new customer came inside. Hesitantly, Aunt Cass drew away from her nephew, her grip on the child lingering as she glanced back over her shoulder. "Oh," she murmured under her breath. She glanced back, looking saddened again as she smoothed down his hair for the umpteenth time. "I can handle the night shift, honey," she murmured softly, her voice barely a whisper as she looked at her nephew in pained endearment. "You go and be with your friends. You go and get happier. And I'll be here waiting for you, okay? I'll always be here waiting."

He nodded. Said two simple words in response: "I know."

Aunt Cass beamed, then turned around and leaned back into her heels, once again standing on the other end of the counter after she had stopped leaning over the width of it. She held his gaze lovingly for another moment or two, but then turned, coughing in order to clear her throat before calling out to the customer who was making their way inside. Apparently it was a Regular by the way that the pair immediately struck up conversation. But Hiro wasn't focused on even glancing to see if he recognized them as well.

Instead, the boy only looked up in order to see that Aunt Cass' back was to him, and that the woman was in deep conversation already with the newcomer. He paused briefly, a pang of awful guilt squeezing his throat like a chokehold. He swallowed with difficulty— any other time and he would be disgusted with the mere thought. But now he just pocketed the phone that was held in his hands, ensuring that it wouldn't fall out before turning back to the cash register. He leaned over slowly, subtly typing out the code that would allow the machine in front of him to be opened. He put his hand close to the door of it, preventing the thing to be slammed open, which would then create its awful clanging noise. In catching it the way he did, he prevented either of the women at the other end of the room to be alerted as to what he was doing.

Opening the thing carefully, Hiro left it ajar for only the briefest of moments. He reached in quickly, blindly, for some amount of money that would prove satisfactory to him. He ended up slipping out a twenty, which was a little excessive, but he had no other time to try and fix it. Instead he was only allowed a heartbeat to stuff the bill in his pocket, shutting the cash register as quietly as he has opened it as he hopped down from his perch on the stool. The stolen money should have caused in him severe regret. The phone should have burned a hole through his pocket with the way that it would undoubtedly be used. But they didn't do either of those things.

By the time Aunt Cass turned back around to glance at the boy that she had left behind, Hiro was long gone. Out the back door and starting down the street. A small smile tugged on the edges of her lips, and her eyes softened, as if she were already picturing her nephew racing out, dialing numbers quickly on the new phone in the excitement of being able to be with his friends, with the people who he and Tadashi had both loved. It was better this way, she thought with an almost-happy expression coming over her face. Hiro would get better like this, bit by bit, on his own accord. He wasn't forced into anything this way. And things would only get better from here on out.

"Was that Hiro?" the customer, one of her close friends, asked, leaning over and peering after the young boy. They blinked, seeming surprised when Cass nodded yes in turn. "How is he?" they asked, invested entirely now, which was what most people seemed to be when the topic switched to the teenager. "Is he alright?" they clucked their tongue, shaking their head. "The poor dear. He'd been so upset ever since his brother…" they trailed off, as if the thought occurred that Cass was no more protected against the reminder of the fire. So instead they changed routes, clearing their throat and pressing forward as they corrected themselves. "Is he doing alright now?"

Aunt Cass turned as well, staring the way that Hiro had left. She didn't reply for a moment, quiet as she considered the question. There was a long pause between the two, but eventually, Aunt Cass let a smile cross over her face warmly. "Yeah," she answered softly, a warm feeling spreading through her chest affectionately. "Yes, I think he's going to be just fine from now on," she murmured.

(•-•)(•-•)(•-•)(•-•)(•-•)(•-•)(•-•)(•-•)(•-•)(•-•)(•-•)(•-•)(•-•)(•-•)(•-•)(•-•)

The phone call had worked— it had been answered on the fourth ring. Redhead had known exactly who he was upon his call, despite Hiro still lapsing in the knowledge of her own name. And it didn't take long in order to get his message across, which shouldn't have been a surprise with the way that Redhead had offered her information in the first place. Hiro walked down the sidewalk, his steps light and quiet compared to the loud background of the city. He didn't go as far as he normally did; such a trip would just end up with a wasted journey. Instead he made down to the pier— a rather long walk, but it didn't come as a concern to the boy. It was shorter than the alternative with the route he took.

He drew up his hood snugly around his head, sinking back into the shelter that it provided the farther he went along. It was chilly out today— there was a heavy fog that hung over the city and it didn't help to warm the temperature at all. Narrowing his eyes against the fuzzy setting, Hiro tucked his hands into the front pocket of his hoodie, feeling the twenty dollar bill crinkle in his hands as he tightened his hold on the paper. People were passing to and fro, people of all shapes and sizes and walks of life. Usually at this time there were business people with briefcases and work agendas bustling by, probably intent on making a date. However during the weekends, the streets were clogged instead with teenagers or groups of friends. It made the walk a little nosier, causing the boy's head to pound with a heavier beat of pain. However Hiro did his best to look past the idea and shrug it off. It seemed like that was all he was doing recently.

In the span of less time than he'd anticipated, Hiro had found his way to the pier. The boy walked to the very edge of the concrete, coming to a standstill and looking out silently over the bay. The water was still today, which probably had something to do with the fog that had rolled overnight. It was like a smooth expanse of glass, and somehow the lack of waves or movement caused a pang of sadness to shake the young teenager. He gave a weary sigh, sitting down on the edge of the stone and looking down towards the water shortly below. Letting his legs dangle, the boy kept silent where he sat and waited, looking out towards the far horizon with an empty kind of stare.

A long time passed — a longer amount of time than it took for Hiro to get down here in the first place — before Redhead showed up. The boy had started to doze off, lack of sleep and exhaustion causing the boy to pull his knees back up to his chest, leaning over as his eyes started to close blearily. He hadn't slept much since Wednesday, and it was started to take its toll again with his bagged eyes and flat voice. However as soon as he started to nod off, there was a bright call from behind, the boy snapping to attention as he whipped around to look over his shoulder. And sure enough, a lithe form was making its way over to where the young boy had settled down.

"Yo Grumpy," Redhead drawled as she marched her way over. Hiro didn't reply, and kept silent even when she took a spot down next to him, setting down the bag that she had been carrying with her as she turned to give him an expectant smile. Taking the grin for something else, Hiro reached into the front of his hoodie and drew out the twenty dollars, handing over the stolen money and taking instead the bag that had been dropped beside him. Redhead perked at the exchange, looking somewhat surprised by the amount. But Hiro didn't pay any heed, instead taking to peering down into the plastic bags and sorting through what was inside. It was apparent the relief that crawled over the boy's face at the sight of the drinks that met him, because Redhead snickered as she pocketed the money that had been given to her. "Didn't know you missed it so much," she remarked, not even sure if the boy was listening to her with the way that he was staring intently down into the bag. "You didn't call me for so long; I figured you didn't need my service anymore," her words were tinged with hints of sarcasm.

"No," Hiro said, rather shortly and being painfully aware of how hollow his voice sounded. "I got grounded, I couldn't leave."

"Ah," Redhead snickered, finding amusement in the simple reply. Hiro didn't react to her teasing, but that didn't cause her to stop in any way. "Yeah, the 'rents can get pretty awful sometimes." The dark-haired-kid didn't reply, not even looking up from what he was doing. Instead he reached into the bag, grabbing one of the bottles that were tucked away in its pack and wriggling it out of its hold. Without even glancing over at Redhead to see whether or not he could, because really by now permission really wasn't his on main concern list, he uncapped the drink and started to delve into the bottle. Redhead quirked a brow at the boy's quick actions, but she still continued to speak. "I know I hate mine," she went on with a dry tone. "They're so annoying, you know?"

The few gulps that Hiro managed to get down were just as bitter as he'd remembered them to be. But the break and abstinence from the liquid left him aching for the sensation of it, and now that it was finally being returned to him, the boy almost felt physical pain in reaction to the relief that was experienced when the warm feeling started to come over him once more. The heaviness that hung over his shoulders, the jittery feeling that he had fostered this entire past week, they would all go away. It just depended on how fast he drank down the liquid. The thought caused the boy to hasten in his actions, and by the time that he replied to Redhead, more than half of the strong liquor had been downed, and there was strangely comforting fuzziness on the edge his mind.

"My parents are dead," he said hollowly, holding the half-empty bottle in the grip of both of his hands now as he stared over the smooth water. Redhead blinked, but didn't reply; Hiro wasn't really looking for one in the first place, though. Instead, staring blankly forward, the teenager rambled softly, his voice a small murmur as he observed the hanging fog that was surrounding them on all sides. "…They died when I was three," he paused for a long moment, looking down and taking another deep, bitter-tasting swig of alcohol as he wanted desperately for any remaining shred of coherent thought — any remaining shred of sadness or regret — to vanish. "…I hardly even remember them," he whispered once he was done, looking down at the ground as he let the confession out on accident.

Redhead started to open her mouth, looking as if she were about to ask something. But then she seemed to cut herself off, glancing down to the bags of alcohol as her eyes flashed. Instead, she sat back in what looked to be a more relaxing position, wrapping her hands over her ankles and looking out over the water. Silence hung itself over the two of them, and in the back of his mind, Hiro wondered why Redhead was even still here in the first place. Why hadn't she just left once he'd given the money over? But he refrained from demanding that answer outright, and instead he just focused on drinking back the numbing liquid. He made quick work in choking back the thing, not as much sidetracked from the taste as he had been the first time he'd tried the drink. Such a thing was worth it to get the necessary reaction.

And he got it deep into the second bottle. A weary, exhausted feeling hung like weights on the boy, and his intelligent thought was starting to be killed, just as he had wanted. There was a muffled and muted sense to everything, and Hiro felt the calm that he'd desperately missed starting to settle over him again. The teenager's eyes were half-lidded, and every time that he brought the bottle back up to his mouth, his arm moved slower, the simple action of 'up and down' bringing with it more difficulty in figuring out than he usually had. Despite the difficulty in movement that came with the calming sensation, Hiro continued to drink down the thing that he had been deprived of so dearly this past week. He hadn't even noticed how much he'd depended on the alcohol, how much he had depended on it in order to keep free his mind of Tadashi, or to quell his nervous tremors, or to even get to sleep at night. He hadn't noticed it until the alcohol had been denied of him, and now that he had finally gotten it back it was like sinking into a swimming pool on a blistering hot day.

Time passed before Redhead spoke, and when she did, it was only when Hiro's eyes had lost their intelligent spark, and when the boy's movements had slowed enough to show that he was starting to fall into the trap that the liquid inflicted. "So," she said, turning away from the bay in front of them as she twisted around to look at the teenager. "What's your story, kid?" she asked, feeling freer to ask the question now as Hiro actually turned to look her way, his muddled and almost confused expression trained on her rather than him just looking away pointedly. "You said you need to 'forget something' and since I'm the one helping you do it, I think I should know the reason, don't you?"

Hiro stared at her blankly for a moment or two, as if he wasn't sure to what she was referencing at first. Redhead only met his gaze, offering up no more explanation or reinforcement to her question as she simply waited for him to answer. And he did, eventually, after dousing back another swallow of the liquor that he held in his hands. He looked disappointed at the detail that the liquid was starting to run out as well in that bottle. But it was clear that he was just planning on opening a third once this one ran itself dry. Drinking so much in such a short amount of time wasn't really a smart idea. Especially given his short stature. But the fact wasn't released from Redhead's lips— she didn't even know if the kid would listen. Hiro reached up to rub the sleeve of his sweatshirt over his mouth, wincing a little bit at the slightly ill feeling that was starting to develop in the pit of his stomach before trying to answer.

"Uhm…" The boy grimaced again, the thought bringing pain along with it as he reached up to rub at his head, and at the pain centered there that was only getting gradually worse. He stared down at the glass bottle he held close to his chest, the remaining liquid in the container sloshing around in the bottom of it. When he went on to speak, his words were quiet and slurred together, hardly making much sense to himself even, though Redhead seemed invested enough into what he had to say, and it was clear that it made at least some sense to her. Which was good enough, considering that by now keeping track himself or what he was saying was almost impossible with the way that his mind was so clearly hazed over.

"My…best friend…." His voice was a mere rasp in his throat, faltering on itself, stopping short prematurely. "My brother…died… It was the night of the college Showcase, and he tried really hard to get me into that school…" He ducked his head, looking agonized, and before he could continue, he drank down another swallow of the alcohol. He knew that by the end of this he would want more, he would need more. To drown out the torture of recounting such a thing, or to drown out the sorrow that was starting to clench at his heart and chest. He'd gotten into this in order to stop thinking about his brother and what had happened, but now he just couldn't seem to stop himself from going on, he couldn't seem to reign himself in before things could get out of hand.

"There was a fire and…" He grimaced, swallowing thickly. "One of his professors was inside. I tried to tell him to stop…I tried to pull him back. I tried to—…I tried…" He squeezed his eyes shut tightly, shaking his head. His voice was pathetically clogged by now, which only made understanding what he was saying harder. "He was my only friend. The last person that was really from…from _my_ family…and just because I couldn't stop him…just because I wasn't enough to hold him back from running into that building… It exploded, and…and he was just gone." He ran one of his hands through his hair, his jaw locking back and a hint of subtle anger crawling into his voice as he muttered under his breath. "That stupid fire…it was all an accident— why did he have to go running into that fire? All for some stupid person that didn't even…" Hiro's voice broke and splintered into pieces, the boy's face clouding over with an awful kind of sadness as he ended his thought in a small whimper. "…that didn't even love him…?"

Yet again, there was a stunned kind of silence. Redhead didn't make a move to speak, and Hiro was too busy trying to fish out yet another bottle that he could use to douse away these emotions. His hands were shaking in his efforts, and with the way that he was so discombobulated now, working out the next bottle was a lot harder than should have been. "…shit," Redhead mumbled after the long silence had passed. "That's messed-up." It was a little less than satisfactory in the sense of how replies went, but Hiro was much too engrossed with what he was doing to even try and care about it. He only growled in the back of his throat, the noise coming out as more of a whine as he reached up to scrub at his eyes, which he was afraid were starting to burn and overflow with tears.

Redhead leaned over, knocking his hands — which had started to shake — away and fishing out the next bottle for him, handing it over after popping the cap off herself. Hiro accepted the offer with a small, slurred mumble of appreciation, immediately forcing himself to choke down more. He had to get rid of the thoughts. But now that he had started, he couldn't seem to stop himself. It was like vomit that he couldn't seem to hold back. His shoulders hunched and he ducked his head, locking his jaw back as he spoke through tightly gnashed teeth. "I miss him," he growled, his knuckles turning white the force that he held the bottle in his hands with. "And I don't know what to do without him now. All I can think about is everything that we used to do together, and everything that I can't do with him anymore." He shook his head, swallowing before going on. "And I think about every time that I was ever mean to him and I wish I could take things back, but I can't." By now his shoulders were heaving unevenly, jerking up and down as his breathing slowly became out of control. "And I wish I could have made him stop. I wish I could have stopped him from going into the building, but he went anyway and now Aunt Cass is upset and I can't make things any better, and nothing is working, and I feel like I'm going to explode if I can't get a handle on things, but I have no idea where to start, and it's such a big mess that I can't even sit with without…without—"

He cut off, trembling violently by now. His speech, which grew increasingly frantic and faster with each word, came to an abrupt halt as he was gripped by severe tremors. He bit down on his lower lip, ducking his head down close to his chest and taking in staccato, panicked gasps. Shivers crawled up and down his spine, and Hiro made a plaintive noise in the back of his throat as he was overwhelmed with images of Tadashi, of his older brother. Such images caused trails of water to trickle down each side of his face— warm and hot against the severely-dropping temperature of the city. He shook his head groggily from side to side, sniffing pathetically in the attempt to choke back any excess noise. "…sorry," he muttered, his voice sounding small and quiet as he said this.

Redhead eyed him skeptically. But when she spoke again, she didn't seem bothered by the reaction that the boy seemed to be having. Rather, her voice was almost something akin to interested as she twisted around. "Hm," She mused, Hiro turning around to look at her oddly. Now into his third — a dangerous amount to down this quickly, especially with his short and slim physique — the boy's eyelids were hooded, his movements and stare languid as his teeth had started to chatter behind his closed mouth. "Seems to me like your attempt at 'forgetting' is a little bit more than warranted. However, if you just keep with this, you won't get all that far. Or you'll only get halfway there. Maybe if you'd told me your sob story earlier, I would have known better."

"S'not a— s'not a sob story," Hiro objected, though he kept interested in what the girl was mentioning anyway as he watched her intently. Or as intently as he could with the way that his mind fazed in and out of the moment. His vision was slightly blurred by now, focusing into true shapes only once in a while as the pieces slowly clicked. However by the time that Redhead displayed what she intended, it only appeared as a small white blur to which she showed Hiro. The teenager's nose wrinkled in confusion, and when he reached out to take the thing, it took him three tries in order to actually grab the thing rather than the air beside it. "It'll up your pay a bit more, but there's always a price to pay for happiness, I guess."

"What is it?" Hiro mumbled, bringing the thing close to himself in order to see what was in front of him. It was a case of something, he realized. A case that had on the back of it a long message of fine print. But Hiro couldn't seem to focus his vision down enough in order to read it, no matter how close the boy brought the casing, and no matter how much he narrowed his eyes in the attempt to see it. He let out blustery sigh, frustration lacing onto the back of it as he growled: "I can't read it."

"You don't have to read it— you've only got to understand what it does," she said almost loftily. She reached over and jabbed a finger down on the case's lid. "It's just some simple medicine. A couple tablets and you'll be out for a few hours. Peaceful dreams and smooth sailing. There's not many in there already— usually I take some of them, so most is gone. But this'll help you relax for a long time; that is, if you use it correctly." Hiro still didn't seem to understand, Redhead sighing softly as she tried to make light of the situation. "Look— it's fine. It's just some medicine; you'll thank me later, right?"

Hiro blinked slowly, hesitating as his heavy mind took careful effort to think through the situation in front of him now. Or as careful thought as he could get to. He already had the alcohol; and that was fine enough, right? Though in the back of his mind he had wonder— how could he know if it was enough if he didn't try something else as well? He opened his mouth to say something, his jaw slack as he tried to search for a good enough response. Against himself, his fuzzy mind reverted to Aunt Cass. She would be upset. She was…she was already upset about everything right now. And he didn't want to make her even worse…did he?

His mind, warped and disoriented, was fighting against itself. He didn't want to make Aunt Cass upset, no…no he didn't want to do that at all. He didn't want that….he didn't want to…he didn't… 'I think you're sick, little brother.' Hiro's grip on the thing increased tenfold, the boy curling tighter into himself as he remembered the words that Tadashi had told him years and years ago, tears filling up his eyes and leaking down over his face again as he gave a small, quiet sob. The simple phrase tore open his chest in that painful way, rendering him of any breath he had as the boy leaned down into his sweatshirt sleeve. '…give you some medicine to help make you feel better. Okay? I think that sounds pretty good.' Hiro ran a trembling hand through his hair, sniffing loudly as his attempt to stifle his own noises went out the window.

'You need some medicine to make you feel better, don't you?'

"…how much will this cost?" When Hiro spoke next he was shocked at the way that his voice sounded— hollow, as if everything that had made it up before had gone. It scratched against his throat in a painful way, and its volume barely rose into that of a small mumble. "…How much will it cost me?" he asked softly, reaching up and rubbing at his eyes in a rough, almost mean way.

Redhead's reply was quick. "Fifty. For the pills and the drinks. Then we can have a regular deal. This time I'll let you off with twenty but next time I'll look for more." Her tone was brisk, as if she were talking about a simple transaction— as if Hiro was a customer at the cafe asking how much a small coffee was. Fifty…fifty wasn't too bad. No, it was fine. He could manage it. Bot fights…the cash register… "We can meet down here whenever you wanna do it. You just give me a call and I can handle the rest of it. What do ya say, Grumpy?" The sheer caustic manner of the girl should have been enough to put Hiro off, but the boy was out of it. He didn't even notice the small detail— all his attention was focused on the things that he held in his hands. And what they meant for him.

He gave a small nod, barely even a full movement to qualify his confirmation of the partnership. But it seemed to be enough for Redhead, because she grinned widely. Turning and reaching into the bag, she drew out one of the last two bottles for herself, reaching over and clanging it against the bottle that Hiro held in his own hand limply. "Cheers, then," she said happily, satisfied as she too took a swig of hers. Hiro stared down numbly at his own drink, making the slow connection that it was already nearly empty as well. Just like the other two had gone down quickly, this one seemed to run out just as fast.

"So when do you want to meet here again?" Redhead asked, almost enthusiastic with the question.

Hiro continued to stare down at the bottle in his hand, not replying.

"Grumpy, I'm talkin' to you," she chirped, reaching over to knock the lip of her bottle against the boy's shoulder. "Or do you just want to call me next time? Would that be better for you?"

Hiro didn't make a move to speak.

"…Hiro," she pressed, raising her eyebrows as she sat forward a little to try and get a glimpse at the teenager's face. When he still kept quiet, she pressed even more, refusing to let the topic go until she got a straightforward answer. "Do you want to just call me next time? Or do you want to set a date to meet back here?"

Hiro's only reply was only to turn, dropping the glass bottle beside him with a loud clatter, delving unsteadily into the bag to take out the last bottle of beer.

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Everything became muffled and confusing. Hiro didn't know exactly where he was— he felt like he was sure that he had walked away from the pier, but he could distinctly hear the small rushing of waves against the stone. He thought that Redhead was still with him, but as he slowly moved his head from side to side to look, he couldn't see a single other figure around him. He thought that he had fallen asleep for a while, but it was still dark around him... Or at least he thought that it was dark. He wasn't sure— all he knew was that his stomach was rocking with every subtle, small, and sluggish move that he managed to create through the fuzziness in his mind. His head was pounding and every time that he swallowed, the boy grimaced and gagged in the back of his throat at the taste that was festering on his tongue.

After what felt like a millennia, Hiro made a slow discovery: he was lying down. The boy was flush against the concrete, his cheek scraping against the ground as he subtly moved his head. He winced, at not only the abrasion on his cheek, but also at the sense of nausea that followed the simple movement. He rolled over onto his side, fumbling as he put his hands down on the ground, pushing up and gagging as he struggled up to all fours. As he managed to get halfway up, the boy stopped short, squeezing his eyes shut as he hesitated, sickness jolting up into the pit of his throat with an awful kind of taste.

The boy immediately jerked forward at the initial sensation, the teenager letting out a small whimper briefly before ducking down as the sickness started to force its way up. The boy retched feebly; whatever sparse content that was in his stomach became void as it spilled onto the concrete below him. The taste of the bitter alcohol was soon replaced with this bile, but the alternative was no better as Hiro gagged deeply, even once the task of forcing up the stuff had passed. His head swam even more after the boys' retching, leaving him crouched on his hands and knees for a long time afterwards in the attempt to get himself back under control.

His mind came in spasms, nearly incoherent in itself as he tried to retain control over what was going on. But it was nearly impossible to do so. Hiro swayed slightly, unbalanced and sick as he struggled to remember what was going on. Was it dark…? Where had Redhead gone…? Did he drink all of the alcohol…? Where did he put those other things….? No— no, he had to get back home. He had to get back…he had to get back to…who, again? It took a frighteningly-long amount of time to land on the name, but he did after a moment. Aunt Cass— he had to get back and be with Aunt Cass. That was it. He had to go home. Home.

He pushed himself up to his feet, immediately stumbling and capsizing in the first effort. He slammed back down into the ground, a pathetic yelp coming out from the boy's mouth as he grimaced in pain. Gasping for air that wouldn't seem to fill his lungs, Hiro struggled up to his feet again. He took it slower this time, forcing himself to balance on unsteady, suddenly-inept legs. Swaying on his legs, the teenager turned and started back in a general direction, for he'd no idea which way to turn. After all, he wasn't even sure where he was in the first place. So rather than focusing on the direction he was going, it was all he could focus on to walking correctly, and putting one foot in front of the other.

Every step brought another wave of sickness, another series of poundings to slice apart his head. The boy ducked down against the agony, hugging himself tightly as he plodded along. In the back of his mind, in the fuzziness of whatever he was experiencing, he could hear faint sounds of cars passing by on the street. That meant that he was…that he was near a road, right? But…which one? Was he close to home? Was he far away? The boy blinked rapidly, his fuzzy and nearly doubled vision wavering violently to and fro in front of him— he couldn't narrow things down into one strict picture, rather left feeling helpless as it all seemed to escape from him right when he expected that he would be able to figure it out. But it was fine— there wasn't anything to worry about, his mind slurred as the boy stumbled over his own feet, crashing back down to the ground for the second time now. It didn't matter if he couldn't find his way home, he could just stay out here— it wasn't like there was anything wrong with that.

He picked himself up again, relentless as he forced through his slow, staggering walk. Blindly, for he had stopped trying to make sense of what was surrounding him, Hiro found himself walking against a wall. What sort of wall, he'd absolutely no idea, yet the thing managed to act as a small guide for him; or at least it appeared that way as the teenager leaned against the brick, stumbling and wobbling as his feet tripped themselves up. His mind seemed to deplete the longer that he forced it into action, as if it were getting too tired to keep going, and in consequence of this, it stuttered more and more. Eventually the boy was barely walking, his feet a small shuffle against the ground as he muttered unintelligible words underneath his breath. Every so often, a coherent snippet escaped his mouth, far too low to be able to be heard for very long though as they escaped one by one as he tripped forward. "…Tada—…couldn't…tried…isn't….fau—…"

The sound of the street had grown louder now, even to Hiro's uncoordinated mind. However, before the boy could struggle to find out what this meant, his knees buckled in on themselves suddenly, the teenager collapsing as his legs suddenly gave out on him. As if he were too tired or worn to try and reach out to catch himself, Hiro made no sudden moves, only letting himself fall back into another painful slam on the ground of wherever he had wandered. A dull thud came from the trip, and the breath was driven out from the boy's lungs in a subtle whooshing sound as pain crawled over his languid features. By now, cuts and bruises were starting to etch themselves into view after so many accidents like this, blood warming Hiro's skin and leaking through the knees of his jeans to dye them a dark purple color rather than their original light blue.

Hiro made no move to pick himself up after this fall though— whether that was because he simply couldn't will his limbs to follow directions anymore, or whether it was just because he had lost the motivation to keep going, even the boy couldn't really tell. He didn't really care in the first place. Instead, he remained sprawled where he was against a cold, stone ground, his eyes closed limply as his breathing slowly returned to him bit by bit in desperate rasps. The warm feeling that he had so dearly missed was keeping him rooted, as if the feeling had turned into a blanket, which was now being tugged so harshly over him that it was pinning him there to the ground.

But — yet again — he could find no trouble in it. Because after all— he had the warm feeling. That was all he needed. If he complained about it, it might go away. And what would happen if it went away? All the bad thoughts and all the bad things would transpire again. Things like— he couldn't draw the issues to mind. What had the bad things been again? He was cut off before he could even try to remember what he had been trying to forget, his mind shutting down once more as the boy teetered on the edge of unconsciousness. Thought slipped away like sand through his fingers, and Hiro was left permanently with a dream-like awareness, something fuzzy and dark and confusing. Consciousness slipped away, and the teenager grew numb once more. And oh, how relieving the numbness came to be…

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He was running late. Usually Wasabi was more than punctual, especially to things that mattered. Losing track of time — well, losing track of anything, really — wasn't really something that the young man made the habit out of doing. However tonight he had stayed a little bit too long at the college working on his robotics project, and after running downtown to restock on food that he was starting to realize he was running out of back at his apartment, it was nearing ten at night. He was home by now normally, even on weekends. The idea of not getting enough sleep — the minimum of about eight hours — was enough to make him groan aloud. He'd be cranky the next morning going back to the school study for upcoming Finals. And when he was cranky, Go-Go turned crabby, and then nobody won. He was really going to have a day tomorrow, he figured dryly.

The young man drove his car neatly down the side of the road, constantly checking mirrors and blind spots as he did so, despite the fact that he was quite literally one of the only cars on this specific road at this time. The later it got, the less cars traveled to and fro, and right now he was the only one in the vicinity. But it was obvious that he would not let such a thing deter him as he continued to check left and right, glancing back at his groceries compulsively as if to make sure they had not suddenly thrown themselves out the window.

However, as the man started to swivel back into his rightful spot in the driver's seat, his eye was caught by something else other than traffic lights or grocery bags. Against himself, he took his foot gingerly off of the accelerator, his car slowing down cautiously until it ceased to move along at all. He blinked rapidly, a tad of confusion showing in his eyes as he glanced to the left, and then to the right. Off to the side, out of one of the branching alleyways that led out into the street, there seemed to be…something? A rather small-looking shape that was crumpled on the ground. Was it a person? Were they hurt?

He glanced around a few times more, unsure. The engine of his car was still running, sounding almost impatient as the college student hesitated and deliberated. Eventually, he decided that there couldn't be… too much harm in at least checking on what was wrong. If the person was hurt, then he couldn't just keep driving— it was against any kind of moral principal that he had ever been taught. Taking the cautious approach and rolling down the window, Wasabi leaned over, reaching over to unbuckle his seatbelt to help him lean out far enough in order to be heard. "…Hey," he called out, his forehead creasing over, a mix of concern and confusion overcoming his features as he eyed the figure.

He looked down, slipping his phone out of his pocket and quickly switching on the flashlight option to the small device. "Hey, you okay there?" he called, twisting around and reaching out just slightly past the threshold of the car window, obviously not all that happy with what was going on in the first place. Fred always teased him about how he was too nice— what would he do if this person suddenly just lunged forward and attacked him? He would die, and then nothing much more could be gained from this situation, really. A paranoid thought at best, though they were habitual to the student. "Are you hurt?" he asked, angling the light so that he could try and see properly what was going on, or try and find out whether or not he could help. "Do you need some—"

His words stopped abruptly, the young man's eyes widening in an accumulation of many things. As he finally managed to work out the angle of the light, he casted a bright shine over the crumpled form, and what he saw made his face write over with confusion, worry, fear, and most of all concern. The form that was sprawled in a painful-looking position on the ground was…Hiro. He hadn't seen the boy in such a long time— nearly months. Really, he hadn't seen the kid ever since the fire. He hadn't even the seen boy during Tadashi's funeral, and yet suddenly there the little kid was, looking to be asleep or unconscious on the street of some grimy alley. Immediately, Wasabi's concern for himself flew out the window, replaced at once with the idea of the younger as he twisted around immediately to get out of the driver's seat.

He rounded the car, still keeping his phone on flashlight mode as he rushed over to Hiro, coming to a skidding stop beside him before kneeling down. He reached over, pausing briefly before putting his hand down on the boy's shoulder, turning him over gently so that instead of being prostrate on the ground, he was laying on his back. He didn't open his eyes at the shift, and Wasabi drew back with a tingling sense of panic as he picked up his phone again to shine the light directly into the boy's face. His movements came along as a little rash, yet there wasn't much more of an option he had in the moment. All he could think was bemused anxiety for Tadashi's younger brother. What was he doing all the way out here? Why was he unconscious? The boy seemed to have a few injuries, but they were minimal. Small scrapes and just a few beginnings of bruises. So…what was going on?

"Hiro?" Wasabi demanded, repeating the kid's name when he didn't react. "Hiro, are you awake?" Again, the teenager remained unresponsive, and Wasabi started to wonder if he would have to call an ambulance for him. That, or at least Aunt Cass. "Hiro; come on, Little Man, talk to me. What's going on? What are you doing all the way out here; what happened?" He reached over and shook Hiro's shoulder once more, a tad more forceful with this one now as he increased the pressure on the little one. This seemed to work out better than the other had before— Hiro's forehead creased over in what looked to be slight irritation by the sharp nudge. So Wasabi latched onto the idea and repeated the rough movement. "Hiro, come on, wake up," he urged, his mind flying to anything he could do. He could call Go-Go or Honey. Heck, even Fred. He was running through every option in his confusion, not at all sure which one was the best to do in such a situation like this. Mostly because…well, he had never been in a situation like this before. He didn't even really know the situation that he had just walked into.

There was a small moan of discomfort from the ground, and Wasabi was alerted to attention as Hiro grimaced blearily, the boy rousing as his eyes started to open bit by bit. He winced, closing his eyes again as if opening them caused some kind of pain. But eventually the kid adjusted, opening half-lidded eyes and staring up at the other. There was blankness to his gaze, as if he weren't actually paying attention to what was in front of him. Wasabi's concern in no amount faltered as the boy stared vacantly, and he tried again, seriously debating the whole Hospital thing by now. "Hiro, what are you doing? What's wrong?"

The boy's eyes fluttered closed briefly, and he gave out something that was almost like a sigh— a long and slow exhale that caused his bangs to flutter up slightly from where they hung down near his eyes. "…M'sick…" he mumbled out of the corner of his mouth, Wasabi blinking at the odd explanation. "I feel…bad," the teenager went on in a small rasp. The boy's face creased over and he made a move as if to get up. "…not good…"

"Does Aunt Cass know where you are?" Wasabi demanded, reaching over and pushing the kid back down in the boy's attempts to stand. It obviously wasn't working, and until he knew what was going on, he wasn't about to let Hiro do something that could potentially only make it worse. Though the younger did certainly seem sick. Or at least, not himself. In the air, there seemed to be a sour tang— the smell of something that came across like it should be familiar. But the dank smells of the alleyway were interfering too much with whatever it was; there wasn't any kind of opportunity to try and narrow down the odd odor without being jumbled up in the trash that was around them. And maybe that was all it was in the first place— just the garbage and thrown-away things that people tucked away in here. It certainly wasn't an unfounded idea.

Hiro continued in his struggle to get up, and Wasabi winced a little bit as he reached over, attempting to try and settle him down. There didn't seem to be any kind of bad injuries that the boy could make worse, but he certainly looked like a sight. His face was hollow— he was much skinnier than he had been last time the young man had seen him, he thought. His face was more drawn than before, and the boy's eyes were rimmed with obscenely dark circles. When he started to move, the boy's face wrote over with a certain degree of pain, and Wasabi asked his question again, louder than before now as he put his hands on the younger one's shoulders.

"Hiro, does Aunt Cass know where you are?" he asked, stressing the words separately in the attempt to drive sense into the boy's mind. He distinctly remembered Tadashi's sense of irritation whenever he used to talk about his brother and the nightly excursions the young boy did to downtown bot fights. Obviously it was a source of pain for Tadashi, who always said that the boy was wasting his talents on such idiotic, illegal things. But from the way that Tadashi always spoke about things, it always seemed like if Aunt Cass knew about what the boy was doing, she never outright seemed to show that she was against it. Wasabi always meant to ask more about the topic, but he always refrained since it was something that always made Tadashi angry or upset. And his old friend never really did make the habit of doing so, which made it even worse when the occurrence did come across.

Hiro shifted slightly, as if he were trying to wriggle out of the man's grip. But after a moment or two, as if the boy had to process the inquiry before answering, the young teenager's head went up and down limply in a distant kind of nod. Wasabi gave one of his own at the confirmation, and he repeated one of his other questions, in hopes that the boy would only continue to make sense from here on out. "What happened, Hiro? What are you doing all the way out here? Don't you know how late it is?"

"…feel sick," the boy mumbled, reaching up awkwardly to press the palm of his hand against his forehead with a wince. "I was…meant to go…go back home." He was trying so hard to get up, and each time that Wasabi prevented the action, his efforts only increased. So finally the older of the two realized the inevitability of it all, standing up himself and keeping hold of the boy's arms, helping him up and steadying the boy once he got up to his feet. Hiro's head drooped forward a little bit, the boy blinking rapidly in the effort to concentrate. He swayed from the left to the right, stumbling every so often in the attempt to stand in a controlled, upright position. He swallowed briefly before going on. "I think I….I think I fell or something," his voice trailed off for a moment, and his forehead creased as he suddenly looked up to peer at the older college student. "When did you get here?"

"Look, I think we need to take you somewhere," Wasabi said, not bothering to answer him as he studied his friend. "Maybe to the doctor," he paused briefly, watching as Hiro tried to take back his arms, the younger only managing to twist awkwardly to the side— not really accomplishing much. "Look— I'll drive you to the Hospital. Do you have to go the Hospital? Let me drive you." His mind was rushing to a million different things at once and it was getting hard to realize what was going on or what he needed to do. He had no clue to be frankly honest. And he wasn't the best under pressure.

Hiro was shaking his head even before he could finish talking. "No," he said abruptly, his words surpassingly flatter and sharper than they had been the entire time that Wasabi had been talking to him. He tried to take his arms back, but the attempt was just as successful as the others had been. "No, I just want to go home. I have to get home." He grew almost angry at this, his eyes narrowing as he put more effort into yanking his hands back to himself. "Get off of me; I don't have to go to the Hospital. I just have to— I just have to get home, so get off."

"Stop, Hiro," Wasabi said, increasing his hold on the boy after the younger almost capsized again. Feeling at a loss and sighing softly underneath his breath, Wasabi shook his head. "I can drive you home," he offered after a moment, Hiro coming to a stop as he blinked a few times, looking confused at the sudden change in topic. "I'll drive you home, I'm not going to let you just walk back. My car is right there; just get into the passenger seat. Okay? Will you at least let me drive you home?" He still had no idea what was going on, he certainly wasn't going to let Hiro walk all the way back to the cafe by himself. It was too dark in the first place— and now that the kid seemed so sick, there wasn't really much argument in what was going on. And besides, Aunt Cass would know better on what to do than he would with the boy. If need be, she could be the one to take him to the Hospital if she thought such a thing was needed.

So he turned and helped Hiro into the passenger side of the car, the boy reaching up with a limp arm, grabbing at the seatbelt and tugging it down over himself. Wasabi shut the door and went to take his own respective seat, Hiro taking about four times before he could manage to shove the buckle down into its clamp without messing it up and mistiming the distance to it. But once Hiro managed it, leaning back slightly and slouching down into the seat with a bleary, numb expression, Wasabi started up the car again, coming out of park and starting to drive back down the road. He changed directions now, mapping out the quickest route that would take him back to Hiro's house. And, realizing that the boy might be nauseous, he cracked open the window of the passenger side of the car, hoping that the constant breeze would help alleviate any feelings of illness.

There was a long beat of silence, a few minutes passing by with not even a shared glance between the two; or at least, whenever Wasabi looked over Hiro's way, the boy remained staring vacantly forward. Finally, clearing his throat with a sense of awkwardness, Wasabi started to slowly breach conversation. "So…how are you? I haven't really seen you since…" He trailed off, unsure on whether or not bringing up such a thing would help in this situation. Hiro already looked pretty distant— if he brought up Tadashi, it would probably only make things worse. So he shook his head and backtracked slightly in order to correct himself. "I haven't seen you in a while. What have you been up to?"

Hiro had started to deflate, the boy slipping down and taking to resting against the side of the car door, his head ducked down so that his chin was almost touching his chest. "…nothing," he mumbled from the rather uncomfortable-looking position, sparing no movement before answering. He looked really sick— sick enough that Wasabi was starting to wonder if he should stop the car before the boy had the chance to ruin any of his carpeting.

Wasabi tried to make a few more attempts at conversation until he realized that the boy had fallen asleep again, Hiro's eyes shut as he became motionless and silent once more. Which was fine— being asleep and quiet was better than being awake and puking in the college student's opinion. So he stopped pressing, taking the rest of the ride home to Aunt Cass' in the quiet that was presented before him.

However, near halfway back to the bakery, there was a small buzzing sound. At first Wasabi tried to dismiss it; however as the sound continued on, he started to wonder if there was a problem with the car. But no— the weird sound was coming from something in Hiro's hand. Stopped at a red light, curiosity overtook Wasabi, and he leaned over to pry the thing out of the boy's grasp. He wouldn't consider such a thing before, but now the thought of privacy didn't really occur to him. It was late, he was tired, he'd just found Hiro in this startlingly-concerning position, and now something was buzzing. He felt entitled to at least a little bit of knowledge. Even if the knowledge was something stupid like a simple vibrating sound.

It was a phone, he realized, as he held the rectangular device. It was an odd sort of reminder— Tadashi was always the one to have the cellphone out of the Hamada brothers. Since normally Hiro was found alongside his brother, the need for two never really came across. This one was new too; Hiro must have been given it by Aunt Cass since Tadashi had… Wasabi didn't allow himself to finish the thought, glancing over at Hiro with a sense of curiosity, and then back down at the vibrating phone. It looked like he'd just gotten it— it was a brand new phone if Wasabi had ever seen one. That, factored in along with the idea of the position that the man had found Hiro in, such a thing caused a sense of suspicion to root itself in the pit of his stomach. He hadn't seen Hiro in ages— Aunt Cass said he holed up inside of his room most days. So who would have his brand new number?

He paused a moment more, eyeing Hiro as if he was waiting to see whether or not the boy would react to the incoming call. But Hiro was oblivious, curled away with his back almost to the driver. So Wasabi looked down, answering the call on one of its final rings and bringing the phone up to his ear. Of course, talking on the phone while driving at the same time was irresponsible— he pulled over once he managed to get out of the intersection. Thankfully, it wasn't all that hard considering that nobody else was on the roads. And as soon as he pulled over, and as soon as he answered the phone, he was instantly attacked by whoever was on the other line, a sharp yell coming from the other end that was loud enough to make him wince slightly.

"Hiro?" the voice asked, not even waiting for a reply before it launched itself forward. "Hiro, I know I told you that you could go and stay out for as long as you want, but I think somebody forgot that there was a condition to that rule!" Wasabi instantly landed on the name of the other person, the young man opening his mouth to speak in order to cut her off. But the opposite happened as the woman continued to rant into her own receiver. "I called you three times before this one, Hiro! _Three times_! I can't let you keep going out like this if you don't keep the promises that you make! When you make a promise, I expect you to keep it, young man, and I can't take your word for anything anymore, I don't even want to know where that leads us! I know you've been very upset recently, but that doesn't give you the right to go out and do things like this! You can't keep breaking your word, you can't keep on staying out late, and you can't keep on…" There was a small lapse in which there was a sharp intake of breath, and when the woman spoke up again, her voice had dropped ten degrees in its hostility. "…I'm sorry," she murmured. "I'm sorry— I just need to know if you're okay. Are you okay?"

There was a long moment of quiet. Silence clogged itself in between Wasabi and the woman on the other end, and the young man looked back over at Hiro, startled by the concern that was reaching his ears. "Um—" Wasabi cleared his throat in a small cough, an uncomfortable look on his face as he started to speak. "Hey. Aunt Cass, it's me: Wasabi," he said slowly, using the name that Tadashi and Hiro compulsively used while addressing the woman. It was a force of habit, he guessed with a rather bittersweet emotion.

There was a stutter of surprise from the other side of the phone. And then, immediately, like she was always having the tendency to, Aunt Cass started to fall over herself in her words. "Wasabi? You're— oh, oh! Okay! Hello!" she fumbled, sounding oddly relieved at the idea of talking to him. "I was wondering if— okay, this is— good. Uhm, what's going on?" There was a hint of fear as she brought up this question, which only grew as she piled on more. "Is Hiro with you? Is he okay? Can I talk to him? He isn't in trouble or anything, is he? I called his phone, but he never answered…?"

Wasabi hesitated. He glanced over at the young teenager one last time; Aunt Cass seemed to be well aware of the idea that Hiro was out and about now. "He's fine," he assured the woman, feeling awful in the idea that the Guardian was so upset and high-strung. "He fell asleep a few minutes ago." He paused for a second. "He said something about feeling sick, so I offered to drive him home. That's okay, right? You weren't wanting anything else, were you?"

"Oh, no," Aunt Cass seemed to find satisfaction in the answer. "Thank you— I just didn't have any idea where he was. He just got the phone this morning, so I was worried if he just didn't know how to work it, or there was a problem with it, or just if something had happened to him. I'm sorry— I must seem like such a worrier." She gave a limp series of giggles at this— Wasabi offered his own at her attempt at a joke. "Okay— uhm, do you know when you'll be back? Will it be soon?"

Wasabi glanced around, considered the question. "We shouldn't be too far away."

"Alright, then, I can wait for him, then. He didn't mention anything about feeling sick earlier, now I feel bad for letting him out in the first place." Wasabi started to wonder whether or not he should mention the way that he had found the boy. But he bit the topic back upon further contemplation— Aunt Cass seemed worried already, and he didn't want to further the idea. Plus, she already seemed to know that he had gone out like this. The boy must have just been struck with whatever kind of sickness he was experiencing and fell. Wasabi certainly had had his own fair share of awful spells. Then again, it was still a very peculiar situation; he decided that he would make a note of the boy's number. He would then call him tomorrow and ask more about what had happened. But until then he wouldn't bother Aunt Cass with it. The boy could have been doing something simple like walking back from the mall and then gotten seized with nausea or a severe headache.

The two said their goodbyes, Aunt Cass offering a few more thank-you's in the process. And then Wasabi hung up, turning and putting the phone back down lightly on the boy's lap, trying his best not to disturb him in the process. And then, pulling away from the curb with the required blinker switch, Wasabi started back to the bakery again. It took around fifteen or twenty minutes to get to the destination— a mostly-silent ride back considering that Hiro was still dead-asleep, and Wasabi was unwilling to rouse him from it. However once Wasabi pulled up to the store and put the car in park, he found that there was no other alternative.

He paused a moment before leaning over, reaching out and giving the boy's shoulder a light shake. It didn't do as the boy remained oblivious, Wasabi pursing his lips in brief confusion. Eyeing the already- cracked window that Hiro was leaning against, Wasabi turned back to the side, rolling down the glass the rest of the way and letting the blistering-cold into the car fully. The wind had picked up during the night, and Hiro's forehead slowly creased over in annoyance and surprise as a breeze flew in to land squarely into his face. His fuzzy eyes cracked open in a half-lidded, narrowed stare. There was a disgruntled look on his face, but there was still that vacant property to it, and it made Wasabi wonder if he had woken him up all the way entirely.

"Hiro?" he asked. "Are you awake?"

Hiro grimaced deeply, reaching up and pressing his hands against his forehead. Tadashi's words burned themselves in his foggy, warped mind: 'Hiro? Are you awake?' Behind fuzzy surroundings and incoherent senses, the boy could remember the achingly-familiar grin of his older brother that the words drug up. He made a small noise in the back of his throat in what Wasabi took as a response, unbeknownst to the boy's own thoughts. The young student paused for a moment before leaning forward a little bit, his eyes narrowing as he observed the younger. "Hiro, what were you doing before I found you?" he asked rather bluntly. But Hiro only responded by dropping his arms limply down to the seat of the car. He stared straight ahead, outside the windshield of the car as he remained mute and unresponsive. So Wasabi tried again. "Did Aunt Cass know what you were doing?"

There was a long pause. Then Hiro gave a slow nod.

Wasabi nodded as well. Though there was still an awkward tension that seemed to remain tightly in between them. What was it? What was the matter here? "…Okay, then," he said eventually, though he was still uncertain, and it showed in his voice. "Well, I brought you home. Aunt Cass is probably waiting for you inside, so…" Remembering how he'd had to help the boy stand before, he paused before asking: "Do you need help out?"

He shook his head as an answer. Offering no further conversation, the boy ducked forward slightly, hunching his shoulders as he turned to open the car door. He offered a monotone 'thank-you' as he did so— his gratitude coming off as sour and bland compared to the warm 'you're welcome' that Wasabi returned to him. The college student watched as the young teenager slid out of the car ungraciously, walking a little unsteadily towards the front door of the cafe, resembling almost a baby deer that was struggling to balance on its thin legs for the first time. Aunt Cass was just now coming down the stairs, looking concerned even from where Wasabi sat. The woman met her nephew at the door, worried and over-worked as she enveloped him into a hug.

It was clear that she wasn't even thinking anymore at the sight of her nephew. Her mouth moved silently, Wasabi of course being unable to make out what she was saying. Hiro was talking as well, and the man experienced a sense of frustration at the idea that he couldn't listen incompletely. Aunt Cass perked in order to wave at the person who had driven Hiro home, the other arm slung over the boy's shoulders and holding him close. It was funny— usually Hiro would offer an awkward smile at such closeness. Usually, in the past, whenever Aunt Cass seemed to baby him so openly, he would give off the 'I-love-you-but-I-can't-believe-you're-being-so-embaressing-right-now-right-in-front-of-people' kind of grin. Now he looked the same as he had before in the car: numbed and detached from whatever was going on. He looked pale in the light of the cafe, too, Wasabi realized. A startlingly-whitish-green shade. He must really be sick.

But it was confusing. That was the only word he could think of. He could swallow the excuses, finding sense in the fact that the boy might have just been seized by illness. He could inference what had happened tonight and figure that the boy had just been taken to the downtown area on a weekend, for the idea wasn't unfounded. He could think that the boy was just finally getting over his brother's death and he was now starting to rejoin life in his leaving the bakery tonight. Wasabi brought up given excuses such as sickness, and he even went so far as to tell himself that it wasn't really his place right now to wonder what was happening at all. But he couldn't help it. And as he watched Aunt Cass switch the lights of the cafe off, and as he watched the woman lead her stumbling, talking nephew up the stairs, he knew that he shouldn't overthink things or let them get out of proportion. But he couldn't just not worry. He couldn't not worry about the kid that, in such a short amount of time, had become part of their close group. He couldn't just forget about Tadashi's little brother just because Tadashi wasn't around anymore. But he also couldn't place ridiculous blame on the boy in a situation that he had just walked into suddenly. He had no facts of what happened, and until he had facts, he wasn't about to go around assuming things. That wasn't the kind of person he was. So he just had to settle with the idea being confusing— he didn't really have any other option. Maybe he would have another when he called Hiro back, for he had quickly memorized the boy's number after checking his phone briefly.

He switched the car out of park, turning and pulling away from the bakery and starting back to his apartment—the place that he should have arrived at nearly thirty minutes ago. He realized in the back of his mind that that meant he probably wouldn't be asleep for another hour or so after this. Then again, the concern wasn't at the forefront of his mind as he started down the road. He knew that tomorrow he would have something to bring up to the rest of the group— everyone had been so worried about Hiro these recent months. They had even gone so far as to try and go to the cafe directly to see if he could be brought down to them. That wasn't even listing all of the web videos and emails they had sent his way. Now Wasabi had finally seen him, and…

He remembered the smell from before. Tried to discern it again to see whether or not it had been left behind in the alley. It had reminded him of something, and sure enough there was the smallest hint of something left behind in the car. But no— the origin of where it had come from was just as evasive as the hint of the odor in the first place. It wasn't nearly as strong as it had been in the alley— it must not have been anything. Just a smell picked up from downtown and smothered away by the window of the car that had been left open the whole drive back.

He told himself firmly to let it go.

It couldn't have been important anyway.

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A/N: I would really love to hear some feedback from you guys before I turn to post the next chapter! :)


	4. Chapter 4

It became something of a routine. Lies, once having left a bitter taste on the back of Hiro's tongue whenever they were forced out, now came across as simple and even commonplace. Half of his vocabulary consisted of deception and falsehood; yet, in severe contrast to his character before, Hiro didn't mind the fact; he didn't care in the slightest. Far more evenings than not he was out of the house, Aunt Cass under the pretense that he was out with friends or going off to look at the college again. The fourteen-year-old had told his guardian that, since registration was far overdue by now, he would consider signing up during the second semester. Such a promise, though reliably empty on his part, naturally thrilled his aunt. So she did not raise an eyebrow on the boy's frequent 'visits' to the campus. As long as the boy provided fabricated details of his supposed trips down there, she could swallow the idea wholeheartedly.

However the boy's nights were not filled with long hallways of students, or scientific laboratories that provoked interest and wonder. They were instead replaced with an array of things, quite unlike something that could be found inside of a classroom or a library. The boy would flip up the hood of his sweatshirt, bent over against the frigid weather as he made the necessary call. Redhead would always pick up at least by the third ring, and then it would play out from there. That was the only end of the routine that could ever end up changing. He could be given the things that he needed — always the same request for alcohol, and now the pills that had been added to the list — or Redhead would offer other options. She would volunteer places to go or other things to fill their time and money with. And it wasn't like Hiro cared what they did in the first place; he had thought it many times over when such a thing transpired: he didn't necessarily mind what he did, as long as the same goal was achieved in the end.

So he was obedient. When Redhead offered him other types of pills — such as capsules of particularly strong painkillers that, if taken the correct dosage, would induce a sleepy, peaceful haze — he accepted with minimal, if not nonexistent, hesitation. And when Redhead steered him instead into the deeper parts of town, and ushered him into shady hang-outs, he barely batted an eye. How could he? Because either roundabout way he took, it eventually led him to the same ending. The pills that the girl had given him initially provided him with a wrapped, oddly tranquil lapse of the mind as his body was forced to deal with the foreign chemicals. Sometimes the effects would last more than an hour; and the boy would relish in the drawn-out episodes of paralyzed peace, his mind left insensible and foggy. The alcohol would serve a similar purpose, yet at least with the drinks, he was also given the sense of warmth that he's begun to associate with security.

The problems left in the wake of the substances were not nearly at the forefront of his mind. He could deal with the nausea left after his mind was dragged back up into motion again. He could deal with the headaches left from swallowing down the alcohol, and he could deal with the aftereffects that the 'medicine' brought with it. Thanks to the sickness that usually resulted in the boy hunching himself over the toilet, Hiro had been losing more weight than normal. Since Tadashi's death, he had refused to each much in the first place, though now that his body was struggling to force the foul things back up and out of his system, the loss had nearly doubled. Aunt Cass had voiced concern over this aspect multiple times with the boy's clothes being much baggier than they had been on him two weeks ago; not to mention that his overall appearance in general accentuated his newfound pallor quite obviously.

But Hiro disregarded the questions that were shot his way. He was dismissive of most things when it came to Aunt Cass by now, and as a result, the two of them hardly talked. Most of the time it wasn't on purpose— Hiro had just taken to becoming despondent and silent, staring off into space with just the smallest hint of a frown whenever he was stuck back at home. But sometimes it was intended, the teenager pointedly avoiding his aunt and refusing to acknowledge her whenever she tried to approach him. Such a relationship was now bridging between the two of them, and Aunt Cass, who had learned her lesson from multiple failed attempts at trying to wriggle out conversation from her nephew, was left just standing off to the side, an extremely sad expression hanging over her features. It was clear that she was upset, and that with the way Hiro was acting, he wasn't helping in the slightest. But, yet again…he couldn't find any more reason to care.

He just wanted the oblivion, and so far this was just the only way to get it. Any consequences were unimportant.

It had been a few weeks since his first meeting with Redhead down at the pier. And it had only taken a week after that night to establish their routine of calls and exchanges. Upon the first call that he had made to Redhead, Hiro had almost been stopped by the anxiety that came with the mere idea of all of this. The young boy had been wary in the idea of handing over money in exchange for illegal substances; but now it was second nature to him. It was simple. He either got the money from winning bot fights, or he stole some from the cash register whenever Aunt Cass wasn't looking. He would then proceed to call Redhead, and walk downtown to meet her. There wasn't much to it anymore to Hiro— he was fully desensitized in every aspect of the word.

Now, the boy was waiting on the side of the street, seated on the curb as he tucked his nose down underneath the collar of his sweatshirt. It had gotten progressively colder with each passing day— just a reminder that pretty soon there would be snow on the ground instead of rain. For the past week it seemed like the rain wouldn't stop, and now that it finally did, there was a layering of fog hanging over the ground. The mist was unnaturally thick, and it made seeing a foot in front of your nose difficult. All the same though, Hiro had made the decision to meet up with Redhead. Aunt Cass had mentioned something about going out to dinner, and that was the last thing that Hiro wanted. If such a thing were to occur, not only would he be forced to sit directly across from Aunt Cass for the absolute minimum of an hour, but he would also be forced to eat. So Hiro had excused himself directly, more or less stating that he would go out by himself instead— not that tactful in the way that he rejected his guardian.

That had been almost an hour and a half ago. The boy had walked downtown, which had taken up the majority of his time, and then he had found someplace out-of-the-way to wait for the tattooed girl. She had asked him to meet in a very specific spot that was at least somewhat familiar to the boy; Hiro realized that with this meeting spot, Redhead was probably having the idea of going someplace rather than just handing over what he needed. He looked down, checking the time on his phone as the thought crossed his mind. It was only turning 7:00 now— he would have enough time. At least five hours of it.

No sooner did Hiro look down at his phone did the small thing start vibrating in his hand. The teenager stiffened slightly at the sudden call, though once the initial shock of it wore off, his eyes narrowed into slits instead. He'd memorized the calling number in the past two weeks; mostly because the only contact in his phone was Aunt Cass, and this set of numbers was much different. But he knew without even thinking who it was; it wasn't a stretch to know considering Wasabi called him nearly every day now. Though Hiro's thought process tended to be blurred and fuzzy when he thought back to instances when he was under the influence, he distantly remembered how Tadashi's old friend had driven him home from the pier— or wherever he had wandered to from there, he still wasn't really sure how far he had walked on his own. He remembered not saying much, just asking Wasabi to let him go home. He really only remembered snatches— things were difficult for him to recall up until he had woken up the next day with Aunt Cass hovering over him worriedly. Yet it was obvious that he had done something to make the other concerned. Concerned or suspicious. Otherwise he wouldn't be calling every single chance he could get.

Unnerved, Hiro felt anger curl in the back of his stomach as a scowl crossed over his features. Why wouldn't Wasabi just leave him alone? You'd think after fifty rejected calls, someone would give up. As the barbed thought crossed his mind, he hung up without even answering, tucking the phone away and giving out a short sigh that ruffled the cloth of his hoodie. He just wanted everyone to leave him alone— was that really such a difficult concept for other people to grasp? It seemed to be; because everywhere he turned people were demanding his obviously-unwilling attention. Even customers at the cafe wouldn't let him walk out of the building without trying to hold him up.

Stewing in his own self-pity and misery, Hiro glared into space. He didn't pay attention to what was going on around him, and in effect, he didn't notice as Redhead came into view through the fog. Her appearance went unnoticed until she spoke up, raising her voice into a small yell that caused the fourteen-year-old to jerk back into the present. "Hey Grumpy! You ready?" she greeted, Hiro not even bothering to correct her on the name she used as he merely stood up from the side of the walkway. Starting to wish that he had brought a heavier coat, he pulled his sweatshirt tighter to himself, trying his best to keep his teeth from chattering. He didn't reply as Redhead came closer, and she raised her eyebrows at him skeptically. "…Well don't answer me all at once," she said tartly.

He sighed. "I've been ready for more than an hour now," he said, a tiny hint of bitterness in his voice. But he quickly shook his head free of the emotion, sticking his hands in his pockets and clearing his throat briefly as he ducked out from underneath his jacket to speak properly. "You took your time in getting here," he pointed out instead, forcing himself to indulge in at least a little conversation. If he didn't, the process of getting his things took longer than he liked.

As he noted this, Redhead rolled her eyes, lifting up her arm and extending the bag she held over to Hiro. "Whatever," she chirped, sounding not in the least bit offended by the words. Hiro took the offering, looking inside to see yet another pack of alcohol. There weren't any more pills— he had purchased a whole bottle of them last time he had met up with the girl. So, as required, he handed over the payment, which the girl with the star tattoo accepted quickly. And as she tucked away the money, she cleared her throat, jerking her thumb over her shoulder to point back the way she had come. "I've gotta get going— I've got a group to meet twenty blocks down." But not long after the words escaped her mouth did she stop, a small hint of a smirk curling at the corners of her mouth. "Unless you wanna join me?"

Hiro was already opening his mouth to reject the offer. An extended night of 'socialization' wasn't on his list of priorities. He had already been planning on tucking himself away in the garage for the rest of the night— a much more isolated plan that frankly appealed to him a lot more than anything else. However he stopped himself short, hesitating briefly. If he went home, he always ran the risk of having Aunt Cass spot him and possibly find out what he was doing. Now that they rarely ever spoke, her worry had increased so much that it was almost like another entity entirely, a dark cloud that would always steer Hiro's way whenever it found something odd or out of place. And as he looked at Redhead from the lip of the plastic bag he held, and as he judged the mischievous look that was on her face, he figured that the group she was meeting didn't convene to discuss biblical passages.

So, after a brief pause, he shrugged. "Sure." He said with a small nod. "I don't care."

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Hiro sat against the wall reclusively, his knees drawn up into his chest in what was apparently the new habit for the teenager. Overhead, the sound of cars going to and fro created a roar in the background of the events unfolding around him, though if the boy were to be honest he would realize that he wasn't really paying attention to anything anymore. When Redhead had said 'group', Hiro had been under the impression that such a thing entitled the inclusion of maybe five or six other people. He hadn't been expecting a group of fifty of more, all clustered together and mingling underneath one of the overhanging highway bridges. Conversation was just as droning as the engines that were driving over them, and everybody here seemed to know at least ten other people, which left Hiro out, since he only knew one other person— and even then, he didn't know her real name.

So he had found a corner, which wasn't as hard as he had expected it to be. And he started to delve into the bag that had been handed to him. Most of the people here were going at least something similar. There was a group near the front of the opening that spent their time passing cigarettes from person to person— that or something like cigarettes that Hiro couldn't remember the name for. There were three people sitting against the wall as well a few feet away from Hiro who seemed to be organizing syringes on the ground. And a fairly large amount of people were busy cheering along a drinking contest that was taking place near the head of the party. At least Hiro could only decide to label it as a party— what else could it be, really?

He observed the goings-on around him and tried to find interest in it, but recently everything seemed as interesting to him as paint drying on a wall. He couldn't even bring himself to wonder where Redhead had gotten off to, or wonder why she had been so quick to leave him behind and not drag him along. He just sat and drank, wishing in the back of his mind that he had brought some of the pills that were currently tucked underneath his pillow. They acted much faster than the alcohol did— it seemed like every time that he drank, it took more of the liquid to produce the reaction that he wanted. Even now, when he was deep into his second bottle, he was only just now starting to turn off.

So he started into another, going quickly through the pack that had been provided to him a little more than two hours ago. He would have to go bot fighting tomorrow, and he would have to raise the stakes high enough to be able to get more to replace this one— preferably as soon as he could. Or if he couldn't manage to get away for that long, he could take from the register again. Aunt Cass was usually busy around the lunch and dinner rush— he could do it during those. Or when she was busy wiping down the tables. As long as he did it quickly, she wouldn't notice, he was sure of it. And until the woman started to notice that they were losing money, what was the harm in it? What she didn't know wouldn't hurt her, would it? No, he told himself firmly, it wouldn't; not at all. If she didn't notice, then she obviously didn't care enough about it. And if she tried to stop him from leaving, he would just tell her that he was off to the college again. She got ecstatic whenever he even mentioned that place— she wouldn't dare stop him once he pulled that excuse. He took another deep inhale from the bottle he held, the plans growing steadily in his slightly warped mind just as the warm feeling in his chest was.

The thoughts accumulated into stacks, falling into place right next to one another as he looked through unfocused eyes at the events around him. At the drinking contests, at the people gathered together in groups, at the smoke that was rising up into the air and camouflaging into the fog, at the people next to him that were now voluntarily injecting needles into their arms and breaking through their skin. And all of a sudden another thought, one that was unwarranted, unexpected, rose out among the others.

Tadashi would be so disappointed in you.

The thought was unprovoked, and it hit the young boy like a punch to the gut. As if he really had been struck, his eyes rounded out in shock and something that closely resembled pain. The thought came across as vehement and cold, having a spitting edge to it that left Hiro feeling a sort stinging pain, as if slapped. His lungs seemed to freeze, the breaths that the boy managed to choke down not seeming to quell the burning sensation that was coming to replace the peaceful one that he had just started to establish. His jaw went slightly slack and his grip on the glass bottle increased tenfold. His mind, so fogged-over and relaxed a few moments before, stuttered, as if it was just as caught off-guard by the thought as Hiro was. And then the phrase came again, sharper than it had been before.

Tadashi would be so disappointed in you.

The fourteen-year-old's hands were shaking now, the fact coming across as he looked down to see that the liquid left inside of the bottle was wrought with ripples and small waves. He gasped sharply through the pain that was starting to squeeze around him, and, rashly, he tried to replace the sensation with the other. He raised the lip of the bottle up to his mouth and choked down as much as he could of the liquor in one take. In a newfound, almost urgent sense, he struggled down every drop. The alcohol burned his nose and throat, his stomach clenching even tighter at the sudden chug. His mind whirled, confused with all it had been handed as it spun like a top. And when every bit was drained, when the glass was reduced to an empty shell, Hiro doubled over, a small noise of pain working out through his throat as he ducked down into his legs.

He let go of the bottle carelessly to raise his arms up to fold over his head. If the thought, which was slowly starting to fester in the back of his mind, was an earthquake, then he was trying to shield his head from the debris that was raining down. His shoulders started to shake in time with his hands, and whatever breath he managed to take in was scraped pathetically through his burning throat. His drunken mind pieced together images and thoughts, the boy able to picture his brother as clearly as if he were standing in front of him: arms crossed over his chest and a judgmental stare burning a hole straight through the younger. 'Tadashi would expect better of you. He wouldn't want this.' Hiro shook his throbbing head, as if to try and shoo away the sudden assault.

The dark-haired boy suddenly clenched his fingers, digging his nails into his skull painfully as he straightened. His unfocused eyes went down to the bag, and as the plastic seemed to bounce and wave in his unsteady vision, he tried to pinpoint its location effectively. He just needed more— more would make everything stop. It would clear his mind of Tadashi, of the awful idea that was now stabbing every inch of him. But it was clear as he choked down the next that it wouldn't be enough. He should have brought the pills. He should have gotten more alcohol. He should have done more than this, because it wasn't working. He needed something else. Anything else to block out the thoughts.

As the boy choked down mouthful after mouthful, Redhead was making her way haphazardly back to him. She was accompanied with a few other friends who trailed behind her, and every so often the tattooed girl would give out a laugh or two as a product of the conversation they were holding. However she cut herself short as her eyes landed on the form of Hiro against the wall, and she smiled crookedly at the sight of the younger. It was clear by the way that she walked and spoke that she had had her fair share of alcohol as well. But she came to a stop in font of Hiro anyway, leaning down and quickly getting the other to his feet with a cheerful bubble of laughter, despite the sight that the boy looked.

Hiro stumbled slightly as he was forced up to stand, his knees taking a spastic moment before locking in order to hold him up properly. Beckoning to her friends, Redhead cleared her throat importantly, wrapping an arm around the small boy as she spoke loudly over the other conversations that were filling up the space. "This is Hiro," she introduced the boy to the others. She nodded for a moment before adding on: "He's my sad little puppy." As she made this comparison, she hugged the boy tightly to her side, that sloppy smirk splayed fully on her face. Hiro didn't react at the title— he didn't react to the tight embrace, either. He remained quiet, looking almost lost as he blinked rapidly, trying to discern what was going on and who was standing in front of him. "Isn't he adorable?" Redhead snickered.

"I've been wondering where you've gotten off to recently," one of them sneered, a guy sporting a pair of jeans that looked about two sizes too small for him. "What? Is he your newest project?" The words were intended to be humorous and the boy gave out a small laugh before shaking his head. He instead waved off the attempt at comedy, reaching over and balling his hand into a fist. He let his arm hang there for a moment, and Hiro stared down at the gesture as if it were something alien to him. As if the thought had occurred to the older boy as well, he accentuated the offer by explaining: "It's a fist bump, kid. You're supposed to tap it."

There was a lump in the boy's throat the size of a melon. It made it difficult to breathe, and he was sure that if he tried to speak, words would not come out properly. However, the action causing him physical pain, Hiro complied and reached out, fisting his hand and tapping it lightly against the others. The newcomer did not react like Tadashi would have— he did not smile widely and yank his arm backwards, ending the exchange by mimicking the sound of an explosion. Hiro, by force of habit, almost succumbed to doing such a thing. However he didn't get a chance to as the other just turned back over to Redhead, and Hiro was stopped short, left looking down at his fist as if it had just morphed into a fruit.

"So the night's still young," the guy with the tight pants declared, though by now it had to be at least somewhere around eleven. "I say that we skip this place and go back to mine." The other people behind him —those that seemed more acquainted with Redhead than Hiro was— nodded in a group agreement. Surprisingly, most of them didn't seem as fuzzy as Hiro was, the boy having to focus painstakingly just to narrow down his vision and stop it from shaking back and forth. Either they hadn't had their share of drinks, or they were just more tolerant than the boy; most likely it was the latter, considering not only was Hiro younger, but he was much smaller than anyone else as well. The boy who had bumped Hiro's fist raised his eyebrows at Redhead, turning then to point over his way. "What do you say? You can bring him along if you want."

Redhead started to answer, bringing up her finger as if she were preparing to launch into something important. However Hiro spoke up before she could, shaking his head and wincing at the pain that the movement caused. "No, I've got to— I've got to go home," he mumbled weakly, glancing back over at the bag left on the ground behind him as he remembered that he still had one beer left. "You go on ahead, it's fine…"

"Aw, c'mon, Hiro," Redhead snorted, sounding exasperated. "I thought you wanted to have fun." There was a pause, Hiro reaching up with shaking hands to press them against his forehead, ducking his head low as he flinched. The noise of the cars above them was getting too loud— the combining smells of alcohol and smoke was making his stomach clench and turn over. He was tired; every inch of him ached and he just wanted to lie down. Could he not just lie down? Curl up and turn everything else off?

"…don't you…me?" Redhead was talking, but Hiro's hearing seemed to be going in and out, his mind spluttering as it couldn't manage to gather up enough intelligence in order to take in what was going on. Darkness splotched over his vision and when Hiro attempted to speak, he couldn't make out what he said. He tried to get his mind to focus— any other time and he would have relished in the state of delayed confusion. But he couldn't do it here; he had to get home. He had to get home before Aunt Cass started to miss him. Right?

He felt pressure around his wrist, felt his legs move on their own. The teenager tried to figure out what was going on, struggling to comprehend things as he attempted to clear his vision. There was the sound of muffled conversation, words playing on the edge of his consciousness that sounded garbled and messy. Each step that he took brought more blackness down over him, and he was left wandering in the direction that he was being pulled, limp and uncoordinated as he couldn't fend for himself.

And eventually that was all the young boy could fathom. Everything became blurred— a haze of confused scenes that didn't really click together in the way that they appeared. He picked up barely tangible ideas— that he was walking, that he was attempting to go down stairs though he could have sworn he had just walked up some, he felt like he was standing in one place but then he was sitting a moment later— even if he was under the impression he had been walking half a second ago. Voices managed to meet his ears, though what their words held, he'd no idea. He only got snatches of phrases, some of them making sense such as: "Want some?", yet there were others that just faded in and out instead, like: "I never…but…." Those were lost to the boy, and whatever muffled reply he seemed to give in response was just as clear to him.

He heard something like sounded like music, and he thought he could feel thick fabric underneath him— was it a couch? His head was spinning on an axis, and his stomach was seized with cramps that came in waves— the boy was growing sick and nauseas the longer that time stretched on. Yet, as time did elapse, he stopped trying so hard to sort through things, instead deciding to embrace the fact that such an effort was pointless and futile. This way he wouldn't have to look at what he was doing, he wouldn't have to suffer the preliminary struggles before this all took over. He could relax in the senselessness and feel unbridled. Incoherent and intoxicated, the teenager let go of his conscious and his morals— or at least the parts of them that he hadn't already lost.

"Okay okay okay!" the guy with the skinny jeans said, seated with the rest of the group in a circle on the floor. They had travelled to his apartment from the highway bridge, and after turning on some music and set up the needed materials, they were now deep into a typical drinking game. Hiro was seated close beside Redhead, not knowing anybody else. He sat slack against the couch, his eyes foggy and unfocused as they dragged themselves over to whoever was speaking. Redhead seemed amused by the way the boy was holding himself now, grinning over in his direction before turning away as well to face her friend. "Never have I ever…had sex in a public place more than twice," Skinny Jeans declared with the hint of a snicker.

A couple of the other people let loose laughs at this, as if there were some hidden punchline in the boy's words. A girl with her hair dyed purple leaned over to take a swig of her drink, rolling her eyes unabashedly at the chorus of 'Ooooh's that rose up once she did. Nearby, an older-looking gentleman also grabbed hold of his cup and took a drink. Hiro huffed into his knees, slightly disappointed. Through the turns, he'd only had the chance to take a few gulps from his own cup. And though once the chance came, he took far more than necessary for the game, and it took him about five tries to actually take hold of the cup, the fact that he was unable to take any drinks was more than frustrating at this point. Why couldn't he just drink the whole thing whenever he wanted to? He was so upset over the game and its stupid rules that he didn't even notice when Redhead leaned over to take a drink from her own plastic cup.

Skinny Jeans clucked his tongue mockingly at those who had confessed, his facade of disappointment slipping away quicker than it came as he dissolved into laughter instead. Then, shaking his head, he turned and looked over at Hiro, who was now staring vacantly into space. "Hey kid!" He called, rousing the boy from whatever mental reverie he had fallen into as the teenager straightened. The older boy gestured to him invitingly as the younger boy perked. "Take it away, Champ," he drawled, the boy having to make the slow connection that that meant it was his turn again.

He looked down fuzzily at his own cup, which was less than halfway empty now. His mind was sluggish and groggy— he couldn't seem to pin down one thought long enough to figure out what to say. It wasn't like there was a lack of things he could turn to— he was more than sure that he hadn't done half of what these people probably had. But his mind refused to work for a second, and so there was a small beat of silence that rested over those gathered as the teenager hesitated.

But after a moment, his dead eyes flashed with a little bit of life, and a sudden smile crawled its way over his face. His shoulders shook with suppressed laughter that eventually wormed its way out of his mouth as the boy dissolved into a quick stupor of giggles. The group around him, unhinged themselves by the amount of alcohol that was being consumed in the course of this game, started up laughing as well, as if Hiro had said something humorous. Yet when the boy finally managed to speak through his sniggers, his voice conveyed the same kind of idea: that he had said something wildly hilarious.

"I've never been to college," Hiro laughed with a wide grin plastered on his face.

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It was freezing outside, but it was better than being in. As of right now anyway. Coming off from whatever had clouded his brain so thickly was difficult and slow-going, but he found that being out in the cold air was more soothing than anything else. Behind him, he could hear the muffled sounds of music and conversation— those inside wouldn't miss him. Still having difficulty in the simplest of thought processes, Hiro figured that he should be getting home. He looked down, wriggling his phone out from his pocket with mass difficulty and checking the time. It was one in the morning. He had missed three calls from Aunt Cass.

Normally such a detail would mortify him— if not for his own failure to answer, but in the idea that his guardian would be more than furious the next day. But now he didn't even bat an eye as he stuffed the small device away again. Oh well, he told himself wearily. She would just have to deal with it. Instead of at least attempting to call her back, the boy ducked his head down, cradling it in his hands as he gave a shaky sigh. He felt midway between keeling over from cramps and puking out the awful sensation in the pit of his stomach. But instead he just looked down at the ground instead, wondering how high up he was and whether or not he could jump from here and not be hurt.

His thoughts were cut short as another person came out onto the balcony— the purple-haired girl that had taken the drink before. She seemed surprised at the sight of the boy already standing there— which only affirmed his idea that nobody had missed him or even seen him go out of the room. In her hands, the older girl held a pack of cigarettes and a lighter, and after a moment of hesitation, she turned and leaned up against the wall, shaking out one of the white sticks and lighting it deftly. She stuck it in her mouth, and in Hiro's selective thought process he just cursed the idea that the fresh air would have to leave.

Once the girl caught Hiro glancing her way, she looked up a bit, blinking a few times before asking: "Oh, did you want one?" The way she said this made it seem as though she had severely fouled up in her manners— like someone would start drinking water in desert and then turn to their dying friend to exclaim: "Oh, did you want some?" Hiro hesitated a moment, his brain wheezing like an exhausted motor as he forced it to make sense of the rather simplistic question. The girl, looking at him earnestly, leaned over and held out the box. "Go ahead, you can take one; I don't care. I've got more at home."

She was nice. She seemed really nice. Not only in the way that she spoke, but also how she looked at him in this weirdly sincere way. That was the only thought that crossed Hiro's mind as he accepted the offer, taking one of the sticks from her that had been shaken out of the cardboard container. He wasn't even thinking of what it would do to him— when he was in third grade he did an entire report on how bad smoking was and how it affected the human body. Its title was something along the lines of: "Don't Smoke It's a Joke" (his teacher had been so enthralled with the name, yet Hiro had gotten it from something he'd seen online). But then again, he had also been in the D.A.R.E. program right alongside Tadashi. That wasn't holding up so well either.

But she was nice. So he took the stick, and when she offered to light it for him, though his hands were still shaking, he held it out for her to ignite. Then became the complicated part, as Hiro didn't know what to do from here. He had watched television shows and especially movies where people smoked, and in concept it seemed effortless. But suddenly it seemed like there had to be more to it— it couldn't be that simple. Yet as he glanced at the girl who'd given him the light, she seemed to be almost careless in the way that she did it; and as Hiro's mind weighed the consequences, he figured that it wouldn't hurt to just try it and see what happened. Why not?

Immediately, just like what he had done with his first taste of alcohol, he doubled over and coughed, gagging on the ashy taste that immediately entered his lungs. His mind immediately kicked up into overdrive, the boy rushing with a hot surprise as he forced the smoke back out. The girl with purple hair straightened, looking confused for a second before realization dawned on her. She stuttered for a moment, looking surprised. "Oh no way— I thought you'd already smoked before! I wouldn't have…aw, man, if I would have known…." She glanced back into the room that she had left, through the sliding glass door at the people inside. "Here, just give it back to me, you don't have to—"

"I'm fine," Hiro wheezed, managing to straighten as he cut off his hacking. "No, I'm fine," he slurred, his words still mushed together. He put the stick back in between his lips, and he took another puff, which, unlike the girl whose exhale was relaxed, came back out in another rough cough. He winced slightly, feeling as if all the wetness in his mouth had been sucked out. The thing tasted awful, and it didn't get any better the longer he did it. It tasted like what Hiro could only assume the sidewalk would taste if he got down and licked it. But now that even more chemicals were entering his body, his mind was at least starting to kick back into gear a little bit faster than it would have otherwise.

"Hey…" the girl spoke up, and as he made the slow connection that it was him that was being addressed, Hiro looked up, trying to blink away the fuzziness that was clouding not only his vision, but his thought processes well. The girl looked awkward suddenly, and she paused as she looked the younger up and down. "…You look like a pretty sweet kid," she began, a small crease coming over Hiro's forehead at the odd change in pace. "I mean, I don't know much about you, but…maybe you should go home…? It's getting late, and I don't think someone like you should be here." Her words were slow, as if she were choosing them carefully. That, or Hiro was just taking longer in order to process them in the first place. "…Do you get what I'm trying to tell you?" she pressed when he didn't reply.

She was nice. So Hiro offered her a nod. This seemed to be the right thing to do as the girl's slight concern seemed to drop off from her face. She nodded as well, offering him a little smile before turning to look out to the street, taking another drag of her cigarette. She made it seem simplistic— why couldn't he accomplish it as easily as she did? The boy turned alongside her, looking down blankly at the street below. Predictably, it was pretty dead— it was technically tomorrow, after all. Hiro raised up the cigarette to his mouth and breathed in, forcing down the inhale of smoke now, and then forcing it out slowly, in a breath, not a cough or a wheeze. It was getting easier, he realized.

But as his mind woke up bit by bit, he remembered what he had been trying to forget. That voice started up in the back of his mind, scathing and disappointed as it slammed into his stomach once more. 'I can't believe you.' It growled. Despite Hiro having lost it in the swarm of alcohol, it seemed to have returned; and it was just as furious. 'You're so stupid. You're absolutely pathetic. If Tadashi were here, he would be so disappointed. How can you even call yourself his brother?' Hiro raised his free hand up, pressing the heel of his palm against one of his eyes as he grimaced deeply.

The girl perked at the sudden change, looking over and titling her head to the side. "You okay?"

He shook his head, his mind dragging up pictures of flames, of fire reaching all the way up to scrape the stars, of smoke replacing the moon as it filled up the sky. He looked down at the thing he held in between two fingers, at the miniature blaze that was fostering itself on the other end of the stick. And then, his hands trembling and his stomach curling backwards in disgust, Hiro placed it back in between his teeth and sucked back the longest drag he could take. It burned his throat on the way down, and his nose stung from the sheer amount, but the boy refused to stop until his lungs were unable to hold anything more. And when his lungs were filled with the acrid substance, Hiro held it back.

Rather than releasing it all in the exhale that was bottled in the back of his throat, Hiro gritted his teeth like prison bars. He held in the smoke and tar, feeling a searing hot start to burn his lungs. His eyes watered in the effort, and he ducked his head, grimacing at the more than just the suffocating sensation. Behind his closed eyelids, he could see Tadashi running into the burning Showcase, hear the explosion that ripped his brother away from him, and most of all now, he could feel the smoke that must have constricted his airway, must have snatched away his brother's breath and filled up his body until there was nothing left.

"Hey, whoa, what're you doing?" the girl said, pushing off of the wall and bending over to look at him in confusion. "You aren't supposed to hold it in— let it out!" Hiro only responded by bringing the cigarette stick back up to his lips, gasping out shortly before forcing down even more. A fresh wave of heat washed through him, and the child pictured himself being burned from the inside out, just like Tadashi had been. The thought caused the knife in his chest to twist sharply, a stifled noise of pain escaping him as he bit down hard on his tongue. Associating the noise with whatever the young teenager was doing, the purple-haired girl jerked forward quickly, reaching over and clapping a hand down hard on the small of the boy's back.

The force was unexpected and surprisingly violent. Hiro pitched forward, a gag being forced out from his throat and it turned into a hacking cough. He flinched, trembling as he hacked into the crook of his elbow. As he heaved and jerked forward, he lost hold of the cigarette stick, the small thing tumbling silently out of his grasp, abandoned onto the stone. He tried to catch it before it hit the ground, but by the time he recovered, wheezing and rasping in choked breaths, it was too late. "What were you thinking?" the girl with the dyed hair exclaimed. "That's not how you smoke, kid!"

'You're so pathetic. You're a miserable piece of crap, do you know that? Tadashi wouldn't have wanted this. If he were still here, he would hate you.'

He ducked his head down, shutting his eyes and feeling the distinct — regrettably familiar — sting of tears that started in his eyes and then spread down his face. The girl made a startled noise in the back of her throat, going on to try and say something. It must have been something like an apology, but Hiro wasn't listening, and whatever she was saying was cut off as the boy said flatly: "I have to go." His words were blunt and all but spit out, the boy's voice now rendered hoarse and scratchy from the smoke. The girl drew back, still looking bemused, however her feelings were the last thing on Hiro's clouded mind. He just shook his head, stumbling backwards and repeating: "I have to go."

"…Are you okay?" the girl asked, looking a little lost.

Hiro turned, shaking his head as he retraced his steps towards the room. He would go back in and slip out the door. He would go down some steps and get outside. From there it was a mystery. The young boy had no idea where he was— he didn't know how to get home. But anything was better than here— he just wanted to leave. He didn't necessarily want to return to the cafe, but he knew that the pills were in his room, under the pillowcase like he had left them. The thought sickened him. 'That's what you're going to do, then. Just make it worse.' The thoughts felt like acid burning through him. But it was all he could do. It was all that would help, and he couldn't manage to stop himself.

He stumbled back in from the balcony, the music sounding far too loud as it blasted against his eardrums. He staggered towards the door, his arms wrapped around his midsection as if he were holding himself together. Redhead had been leaning against the kitchen counter, drinking from the plastic cup in her hand, when she caught sight of the boy heading out. Standing upright and walking over a little sloppily herself, the girl gave out a loud shout as she neared the dark-haired teenager. "Hiro! 'Ve been wondering where you've run off to! Don't tell me you're leaving already! Stay! Have a little more fun— you could 'eally use it!" She snickered with this, as if she had made a joke. She swooped forward once she got close enough, wrapping an arm around Hiro's bony shoulders and bringing him uncomfortably close. Yet, limp as a doll, he didn't react to the pull as she squeezed him. "C'mon, pal. You gotta stay! Stay and party wi' me."

"No," Hiro rasped, suppressing another series of coughs before: "No, I have to go home."

Redhead didn't let go. "C'mon," she egged, swaying a little bit on her feet. "I promise that we could have some _fun_."

Hollowly, he reiterated: "I have to go." And before he could give Redhead the chance to say anything else, he ducked away, wriggling out from the girl's grasp as he slouched out of the apartment. Hiro left behind the music and conversation, as well as the group of friends that seemed to be much happier than he was. They wouldn't even miss him with the way they were going, he told himself fuzzily. And as he shut the door behind him, he tried to get his buzzed mind to function, struggling to remember if he had walked up stairs or down a set, and if he had turned left from the bridge, or if he had turned right instead.

Redhead dropped her arm once Hiro left from its hold, the limb falling down to her side with a small slap as she frowned, looking oddly disappointed as she watched the teenager leave.

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The apartment was silent and nearly pitch-black. Given the time — it was around 1:30 now — it wasn't anything unusual. There was a small lump on the bed, burrowed deep under the blankets and curled up to resemble the shape of a small ball. The sound of snoring was coming up from the mound, and the light snuffles from under the sheets made up most of the excess noise in the room. That, and the small motorized fan that was whirring softly in the corner of the bedroom. However, as uninvited and unprovoked as a snowball hitting the back of your neck in the middle of summer, there was a sudden burst of noise.

A series of beeps and music notes came from the bedside table, effectively slicing through the peace that had settled over the bedroom like a warm knife would through butter. The form underneath the covers spasmed, the blankets thrown up and off of the person as they shot into an upright position. Black hair, though short and cropped up to the ears, was wild and flyaway, the person sloppily brushing it out of their face as they looked with squinted eyes towards the dresser nearest them. Sure enough their phone was ringing wildly, the caller ID not helping douse the anger and irritation that was slowly building inside of the person with the unwanted disturbance. Growling in the back of their throat, the person jerked forward, snatching the phone up from the bedside table a little violently and all but stabbing the 'Answer' button.

At once they hissed into the receiver, not even pausing to wait for the other to say 'Hello.' "What on earth do you want, Wasabi?" GoGo growled through clenched teeth, bringing the device away from her ear only to check the time before snapping: "It is 1:35; unless you called me because the world is currently coming to an end, then I suggest you hang up and let me go back to sleep." In the back of her mind, the girl made a solemn vow to herself that if Wasabi was just calling to tell her that the painting in his bathroom was two centimeters off-scale and he needed help in fixing it again, she was going to throw her phone against the wall.

"I called him again." Wasabi sounded wide-awake considering the time, yet as the words met the raven-haired girl's ear, she too lost some of the grogginess that was holding her down. Instead she sighed through her nose, curling her knees in so that they were pressed to her chest as she sat up a little straighter. "Just now, I called him and he didn't answer. Just like he hasn't been answering me for weeks. I don't know what to do, GoGo; I'm seriously starting to get worried now."

She reached up, rubbing at her forehead and sighing. "You are aware of the fact that it is past midnight, right?" she asked softly, the words coming out in a single exhale. She paused briefly, pursing her lips before shaking her head. "He might just be sleeping, Wasabi. And you know how he's been. Ever since Tadashi…" The girl glanced down, rubbing her blanket in between her thumb and forefinger as a small frown crossed over her face. "Ever since the Showcase he's been upset. And you can't really blame him— if he cared as much for Tadashi and Tadashi did for him…it's gotta be pretty awful for him."

Sadly, she recalled how much her old friend used to rant and rave about his little brother. He always talked about Hiro with that dorky little grin on his face— when he wasn't groaning over how much the boy went out to waste his time bot fighting. It had almost gotten annoying sometimes— the way that Tadashi would dole out stories ranging from the last weekend to all the way to five or six years ago. Stories like how when it was Hiro's sixth Christmas, the boy had asked for Tadashi to go ice skating, and as soon as the kid stepped foot on the ice, he fell flat on his face, started crying, and quit. Or how Hiro had cried when Tadashi left for his first sleepover and had to be held back by a rather exasperated Aunt Cass to keep him from racing after his older brother. Tadashi's eyes would always get soft and affectionate when he spoke about his brother…GoGo couldn't imagine what Hiro must be feeling.

"He's not sleeping through my calls, GoGo, the phone rang three times before it cut me off. He declined it," Wasabi objected, sounding strained. "I mean— maybe he was just trying to sleep and wanted his phone to stop going off, but that last time I found him it was later than this! What if he's….?" His words trailed off for a moment and a frown started to hang over GoGo's face as she sobered. Wasabi tried again. "Of course, I don't know what he's doing, but to be honest that just makes it worse. All I know that for the past two weeks straight he's either declined my calls by the second ring, or he just hasn't picked up at all."

"He hasn't answered any of our emails, either," the girl pointed out, though she was obviously hesitant as she spoke. She paused, rubbing at her eyes before clearing her throat and moving on. "So you want to do something about it?" she asked. Two weeks ago, Wasabi had made a point to gather everyone together, confused and somewhat frantic as he told the story of how the night before, he had found Hiro collapsed and senseless in an alleyway downtown. "I admit— it isn't the most relaxing situation to be in."

It was as if her friend had been waiting for her to say this. "Yeah. Yeah we should," he agreed quickly.

GoGo raised her eyebrows, waiting expectantly for the other to launch into some kind of plan of action that he'd already formulated. But when the other end was just as silent, she heaved yet another huff of frustration. "Okay, how about this?" she asked. "Tomorrow can get the others together— Honey Lemon is always anxious to cook dinner for us, so maybe we can go there sometime tomorrow night. If they agree that something should be done, then we can go down to his house after school on Monday."

There was a beat of silence, before: "And then what?"

"I don't know," GoGo mumbled, her brain still half-asleep as it hindered her thinking process. "We can check to see if Hiro is there, and if he is then we can try and see if we can talk to him. If he isn't, then we can try to talk to Aunt Cass. We can tell her that we haven't seen Hiro in months and that we're starting to get worried about him. The worst that could happen is she tells us not to worry so much, right? Maybe we can find some answers that way. Or at least know that nothing is wrong." Still, Wasabi didn't answer, and GoGo tried again. "You know I'm just as worried as you are about him," she elaborated. "But we have to be careful about how we do this, you know? If we make a mistake we could end up doing more harm than good."

"I guess so," Wasabi said, sounding more resigned than he was satisfied. But then he seemed to recover a little bit, as if he realized the same thing that GoGo had: that really this was the best thing that they could do. Mainly because it was the only thing they had to go off of. "Yeah, we can do that. Should I call the rest of them now?" he asked, sounding as eager as if he were already dialing the numbers for their friends.

GoGo scowled, rolling her eyes as she glanced over at the clock. "How about we wait until after the sun comes up?" she growled.

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"…Hey….hey are you awake?" The room had been silent and peaceful, up until the small voice broke the tranquility with a small whisper. The person who had piped up was no bigger than a six-year-old, crouched on the ground and oddly wide-awake as they peered with round eyes into the dark. They were knelt down, their chin rested on the edge of a bed, in which there was a rumpled mess of blankets shielding someone from view. Biting on their lower lip, the little figure reached over to poke the top of the sheets, trying again, a little bit louder now. "Wake up!" they chirped in a slightly raised whisper. "Tadashi, wake up!"

There was a small moan, a grumble of irritation before the blankets were pulled back just a little bit. In the gloom of the bedroom, the little boy could see his older brother start to wake up, just the smallest hint coming in the form of gleaming eyes. Though squinted and fuzzy, as soon as the little boy realized that the other was awake, he was launching forward. "We have to go downstairs," he demanded, looking anxious as he glanced over his shoulder towards the staircase. "We have to go downstairs and make cookies!"

"Wha—" There was a series of muffled confusion before the older of the two propped up on one elbow, eyes narrowed with sleep as they looked over at the clock. "Hiro, do you have any idea what time it is? Why do always wake me up like this? Just because it says A.M. on the clock doesn't mean it's time to wake up." There was a small pause in which the boy sighed tiredly. "Or more importantly, that you can wake other people up."

Hiro scrambled up to his feet, already shaking his head before his older brother could finish. "I know exactly what time it is," he said flatly, an odd intensity to his voice as he pushed. "It is exactly 4:45 A.M. on Christmas morning and we haven't put out the cookies yet!" Apparently the older of the two was supposed to have a reaction similar to this— as if the world were on its final stretch of days. Because when his words were only followed up with silence and not frantic screaming, the six-year-old repeated the phrase, louder this time, into almost a yell. "It is exactly 4:45 A.M. on Christmas morning and we haven't put out the cookies yet! We have to put out cookies for Santa or he'll skip our house! Is that what you want, Tadashi?"

"Hiro, calm down," Tadashi sighed, ever patient as he sat up fully in his bed. "We put out a pie for Santa, don't you remember? Aunt Cass chose out one of the bakery— he won't mind what he eats. It's the thought that counts." He stifled a yawn before reaching over and giving a small pat on his baby brother's shoulder, who still looked wildly incredulous at the idea that his older brother wasn't grasping the concept he had brought to him. "You need to go back to bed, okay? Santa will skip our house if he sees that not everyone is asleep."

"But he needs cookies," Hiro pushed, stubborn as he wilted. The little boy's lower lip puckered out into a pout and it was clear how crestfallen he became as his pleas were rejected. "That's the entire point of Christmas. You gotta leave cookies out for Santa— they're his favorite. It doesn't say anywhere that he likes pies." The little boy flopped down onto the bed, ignoring Tadashi's repeated sigh of frustration as he looked up with an expression that demanded pity. "…We gotta make cookies, Tadashi," he whined. "We just have to make them. And we have to do it before Santa gets here." The elder gave a whine himself, deep in the back of his throat as he reached up to scrub at his face. And when he dropped his arms to look down at Hiro, he wore an appearance that screamed: 'I-really-wish-you-wouldn't-do-this-to-me.'

However when Hiro's expression only became more pleading, the older brother gave in. "Fine," he relented, the singular word barely escaping his mouth before the little one shot up to his feet, a beam coming over his face and lighting up the room a little bit more as he reached over and grabbed his brother's hand, pulling and yanking as he 'helped' him to his feet. And Tadashi did eventually get up, shepherded by his little brother who raced down the steps, displaying far more energy than anybody should have this early in the morning.

Aunt Cass was still asleep, and it was probably better to keep it that way. Tadashi, who had turned thirteen this year, was wiser than his baby brother and was fully aware of how much effort and work that Aunt Cass had put into Christmas. He'd realized the truth about Santa a long time ago, yet in no way did that mean that he was showing that outright. After all, Hiro still got that exhilarated smile on his face whenever the man in the big red suit was brought up— he wasn't about to change that at all. And so that must have been why, even when Hiro woke him up around five in the morning and dragged him in a stupor downstairs to rip out a baking sheet and a package of cookie dough, he only smiled and helped accordingly.

They turned on the light in the kitchen only halfway; Tadashi was trying his best to make it so that Aunt Cass wouldn't wake up. His aunt mentioned something along the lines of getting up around six to arrange the presents under the tree. She had asked Tadashi if he would keep his little brother inside of their room until then. Yet so far, looking over towards the living room, Aunt Cass hadn't gotten up yet to lay out the presents. So, technically, as long as Tadashi took Hiro back upstairs somewhere around 5:30, he was still doing the job given to him.

Hiro begged to work the oven, but Tadashi took the job himself. "You're not old enough to use the oven," he'd said. "And you're too short." So the thirteen-year-old took charge of the appliance, picking up the littler one once he set the oven to preheat and placing him down on the kitchen counter so that he could reach the cookie sheet. And together the two arranged the small balls of dough, spacing them out so that when they cooked they wouldn't mold together. As Hiro pulled apart bits of dough and placed them down on the pan, Tadashi offered a tired grin. "So…I never knew you cared this much. I know you liked Christmas, but I didn't know you liked it enough to get up at five in the morning."

"I was up at three, actually," the little boy corrected cheekily, popping a ball of dough into his mouth. "It took me a while to decide to get you up. And then you wouldn't budge— it took me ages to get you to stop sleeping."

"Don't eat raw cookie dough, Hiro," Tadashi chastised in response. "You'll get salmonella."

"It's like less than one percent of all eggs that contain salmonella," the boy retorted, popping another one into his mouth. "Besides— other people do it; it's fine."

Tadashi scoffed, taking what was left of the cookie dough and wrapping it back up to put into the freezer again. They had already made more than enough— they didn't have to waste the whole package. "And what if that cookie dough that you just ate was part of that less than one percent?" he questioned fairly, closing the refrigerator door just as the oven beeped, signaling that it was done preparing. "Just because everyone else does it doesn't mean you have to," he coached, only grinning when Hiro responded by rolling his eyes. "Next time everyone decides to jump off the nearest bridge, remind me to give you a parachute."

And once the cookies were in, once the oven was set, Hiro planted himself nearly in front of the baking goods, watching intently and checking the clock every so often as well. The cookies had to bake for 14 minutes, and it was turning 5:00 now. Tadashi monitored the time as well from where he stood— though his motives were more based on when Hiro would have to go back to sleep. And in between glances, the teenager was busying himself with getting out a mug for the milk and a plate for the cookies. The traditional things that Tadashi would have been happy replacing with Aunt Cass' pie. But Hiro would not have been happy — he would not have gone back to sleep, either — so Tadashi didn't mind making the switch.

Hiro piped up where he sat, his forehead creased as he watched the cookies slowly grow in size. "Why does it have to take so long?" he demanded hotly, frustrated as he looked to the clock over and over. "This is taking forever," the little child groaned, a tad dramatic.

Tadashi only smiled affectionately. "You have to give things time," he answered.

"Why?" Hiro demanded, getting up to his feet — not making much of a height difference at all — and pointing up to the differing temperature knobs on the oven. "You could just make it hotter and cook it for less time. Then it'll be over quicker. We wouldn't have to wait so long," he seemed proud of himself for the analysis, and Tadashi, ever supportive, tried not to squash the emotion.

His little brother might have a better knack for book smarts than most, — he had already skipped Kindergarten, and his first grade teacher was starting to ask Aunt Cass whether or not he could do the same with second grade — but he lacked the skills needed in order to be street smart. Or that is, he didn't have the same applicable knowledge he did for tests as he did for real life. Hiro let his heart rule over his head for the majority of the time, and although that was what most parents told their kids — "Listen to your heart, honey" — that was not the case in this situation. Hiro tended to be on the rash side of things, and this specific instance was only a small example of what he had grown to be. So Tadashi balanced his chin in the palm of his hand, offering him that patient smile he wished would rub off on his younger brother.

"You just have to be patient," he coached. "Rome wasn't built in a day, little brother."

"Rome wasn't made of flour and sugar, either," Hiro huffed, sitting back down with a heavy thud.

"If you turned up the heat, then they wouldn't taste as good later," the teenager replied fairly, tilting his head to the side as he said this. "Sure, it would go by faster, but you would just be left with a bunch of burned cookies. Wouldn't you rather wait and end up with good cookies than rushing through it and ending up with bad ones?"

Hiro paused, as if he were considering the theory, but then he just slouched further down against the ground, blowing out his cheeks and staring dully over into the screen of the oven. "Yeah; but it's taking too long," he repeated in a huff.

Tadashi pursed his lips. Leaned back slightly. Cleared his throat. Offered that same warm grin. "Sometimes the thing that takes the longest time to get turns out to be the best, baby brother," he answered.

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His steps were mere shuffles, inaudible scrapes against the ground as he staggered wearily down the street. Hiro's hood was up against the freezing cold, his head hung down low, while every once and a while, a small noise of pain and discomfort managed to escape from his throat. The boy's head was swimming, and his stomach was twisted into horrible knots that seemed to get worse with each new step. A dark cloud hung over the teenager, a twisted expression of misery etched deep into his features. Every so often he would trip over his own feet, pitching forward and stumbling as he fell once or twice. He was forced to pick himself up each time, a hand going down to wrap tightly around his stomach in the attempt to curb the pain from knotting even more.

He had no idea where he was going. In his warped mindset he could only trust his feet, which were rendered just as, if not even more, inept. He walked for what seemed like ages— the real elapse of time coming as a mystery to the boy. As he walked he could have sworn that he felt small, pulsing vibrations from his pocket. His phone? Was his phone was ringing? He might have just let it ring out. He might have declined the call. But he might have answered it too. Hiro didn't know; he couldn't tell his thoughts from reality at this point. He had started to come out of his drunken reverie before, but now his physical exhaustion was starting to slow whatever progress he'd made before, if not reversing some part of it. The boy hadn't slept in a long time; now he was left feeling run-down and almost delirious. Limp and stricken, the boy pushed on, knowing that he had to be at least close by now.

His bagged eyes slid shut, the boy's head ducked as his lips moved unconsciously, unclear words playing on the tip of his tongue that never managed to pierce through the frosty air. 'Sometimes the thing…the thing that takes the…longest time to…to get turns up to…turns out to be…' He looked up, the effort of raising his head far greater than it should have been. And sure enough, he found that he recognized this street. If it hadn't been for the fact that he had grown up here, had memorized every brick, had run along these sidewalks, had spent days staring out of these windows, he would have kept going. But instinct led the battered boy onward, and he rounded the building of the cafe to go in through the back door. Once again— it had been left unlocked for him.

It took the boy a surplus of more than ten seconds to conquer the first step once he got inside. And every other after was only worse. He stumbled and staggered, one hand on the railing and the other holding himself together. But eventually he scaled the first set, and then moved on to the second, managing to finally make it up into his darkened room. But rather than going for his bed, either to collapse on top of it and fall asleep or to grab the pills that were underneath his pillow, he bypassed the space entirely. Instead he all but limped to the other end of the bedroom, falling down on his brother's bed.

Bleary, unfocused eyes managed to zero in on the thing that was sitting in front of his nose, as if it were waiting for him. The boy wriggled out his arms from underneath his stomach, twisting over and grabbing Tadashi's hat, sliding his arms back and pulling the thing close to his chest. Hiro curled forward, his eyes shut tightly as he froze there for a few minutes, merely hugging the material tightly into himself, the stabbing sensation seated in his stomach feeling as though someone had poured disinfectant on the open wound. It was an old saying — or maybe more of a philosophy — that great troubles weren't given to those who could not withstand them. That those riddled with challenges or obstacles had been destined for them, because they were more than strong or capable enough.

But that wasn't true. It couldn't be. Or if it was, it just meant that Hiro was the odd person out— the one that, among those braced under the weight of their burdens, was left crumbling under the pressure. Did that make him weak? Tadashi hadn't been weak— if Tadashi were here, he would be able to handle this. Aunt Cass wouldn't be upset; she wouldn't be walking around the cafe as if the floor was made of glass. If only Tadashi hadn't died…if Hiro had died in that fire in place of him…things would be so much better…

The thought caused his stomach to twist. Abruptly, keeping hold of Tadashi's hat in his shaking hands, the boy heaved himself up to his feet, a sickened feeling washing over him head to toe as he stumbled down the stairs in a haze. Quickly he blundered through the living room, finding the bathroom door and ripping it open violently. The teenager threw open the seat of toilet a millisecond before he hunched forward, the sickening sensation rising up from his stomach and out from his body. The young boy heaved, heat rushing through him as he curled forward in pain.

It dragged on forever. Once the waves subsided and once his stomach started to unclench, the boy would gag until it all picked up again. The young teenager vomited until he could not possibly focus on anything else. Until he could not hear the voice in the back of his mind telling him of his mistakes. Until he could not see the memory of his brother smiling kindly his way. Until he could not remember the way he had almost exploded the end of that stupid fist bump back underneath the bridge. Until everything inside of him — the parts that caused Aunt Cass to be so upset, the parts that had taken the cigarette with no hesitation, the parts that he despised but had managed to take up every inch of his being anyway — had been rejected and repulsed. He puked until he was burning from head to toe, and that was the only thing he could concentrate on.

By the time he was finished — by the time he could not possibly force out anything more — Hiro was trembling violently, disoriented and covered with a light sheen of sweat. Discombobulated and confused, whatever thoughts managed to enter his mind were awkward and almost contradictory. He needed to flush away the evidence. But his body was too tired; it was shutting down— moving right now seemed as possible as pushing a mountain. He needed to change his clothes, or at least something like that— he was more than sure that the stench of alcohol, smoke, and now bile was stuck to him like glue. But the longer he sat there, staring blankly ahead and gripping Tadashi's hat close to him still, the more that the ill heat festered inside of him, the more unbearable it became, and the more he couldn't seem to breathe under its scorching weight.

Movements stiff and robotic, Hiro turned away from the toilet to the shower. And, still shaking violently, forced himself up to his feet and used one free hand to reach over and grab at the shower handle. Limply he yanked the knob out into place, slipping in the process and falling forward. Too late he tried to catch himself, falling with a noisy slam into the tub and hitting his head against the floor. As he had slipped, he twisted the shower controls sharply, all the way to the right. And as he collapsed into a pile on the bottom of the tub, he immediately spasmed as a sheet of ice-cold water slammed down onto him.

It was as if all of his breath had been stolen from him upon contact. In reaction to the sudden swamp of cold, every single inch of the boy locked into place, paralyzed underneath the rain. He knew that he should scramble away, get out of the water's pointed range before he got hypothermia or something. But he couldn't get himself to move. His head pounded, keeping him in place. The pulsing injury wrapped him in a stabbing pain that centered itself in his forehead, making him feel as if he were going to vomit again, though he knew for a fact that he had nothing left to give. And as the water seeped quickly though the layers of his clothes, he felt as if a million little needles were pricking at his skin. Miniature syringes all over his body. Vaccinations for a sickness that could not be cured.

Hiro's head drooped down, his eyes sliding shut. The boy's limp frame was seized with shivers and spams as the ice-cold water streamed down relentlessly on him, his clothes acting as sponges that soaked up the water and made it easier for the cold claws to clamp down over his skin. Feeling escaped his toes, and his fingers become unable to feel the fabric of Tadashi's hat in their grip. He remained like that for countless minutes, prostrate on the floor as he lay limp, waiting as one by one, each of his senses were stripped away, taken with the water and flushed down the drain. He should have been scared; he should have at least attempted to get out. But he wasn't; he just…waited.

In the back of his mind, he thought that he could hear footsteps coming closer from the hallway. Thought he heard the door's slight creak as it opened. And then he was absolutely certain in what he felt next. The hands on his shoulders, twisting his body around forcibly so that he was on his back rather than his stomach. The frantic shouting of…of something…his name? Yes, it must have been his name. He tried to react to it, open his eyes and see what was going on. But he couldn't find the will— instead remaining numb as shouted pleas bounced against deaf eardrums.

The water was shut off, the freezing weights that slammed against Hiro and took away his breath coming to a sudden halt. There was still the faint sound of shouting, much too loud against the peaceful quiet he had experienced before. But he couldn't find irritation in the idea. Because as he lay against the ground, shaking and convulsing in the sensation that the water had left the boy wrapped in…he was freezing. The realization was simple and obvious. It shouldn't have meant anything. But the heat that had encased Hiro, the burning that he had kept in his lungs, the scorching sense of shame he had felt, the searing waves that had rushed through him when he was crouched on the ground…it was gone.

He was not burning. He was not charred or singed. He was not suffering under the weight.

Because now he was freezing.

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When his senses returned, little by little, Hiro made the slow connection that he was in his own bed. He was not wearing his street clothes— rather he was encompassed by the softer material of pajamas. The blankets had been tucked up to his chin, and as he gathered each piece of evidence, he also realized that he was curled up into a compact ball, a shiver wracking his body every so often. As the fact dawned over him slowly he bunched up a bit tighter to conserve warmth, and as if his slight movement had set off an alarm, there was immediately a voice.

"What happened."

It held finality to it. It was not a question of any sort.

Opening his eyes, Hiro saw that he was on his left side, facing towards Tadashi's end of the room. He had his back to whoever he was speaking, though he could not mistake their name. Refusing to move, Hiro ducked away instead, keeping his lips tightly compressed as he did not utter a sound in reply. However the voice only repeated itself. "What happened." A large expanse of silence, Hiro not speaking a phrase. "Hiro, what happened last night?" The voice was strained now that it was forced to reiterate herself over and over again.

Still, nothing.

Aunt Cass ducked her head, squeezing her eyes shut briefly as she took in a shuddering breath. "Do you know how awful that was?" she questioned finally, her voice unnaturally worn as she looked at her nephew's form underneath the blankets. Hiro didn't react. So, taking in a short staccato of an inhale, she went on with difficulty. "I get up at who knows what time…hearing the shower running…and I go in to see you fully dressed under freezing water…struggling to breathe right! I just…what am I supposed to do? I turned the water off, I tried to get you to reply to me, but you were just so…you didn't wake up and I thought…"

There was a punctured sound then, as if Aunt Cass choked and hadn't been able to finish her words properly. Hiro paused for the briefest of seconds, merely staring emptily at the wall opposite of him. But then he rolled over, twisting onto his other side and turning his gaze over to Aunt Cass over the lip of the comforter. Worried, teary eyes, met desolate, blank ones, and Cass bit down on her lower lip, looking as if she was struggling to hold back a sob. But to her credit, she just reached up to tuck a lock of hair behind her ear, managing to clear the lump in her throat so that could speak clearly. "…Honey, I just can't help you unless you tell me what's wrong… you know?"

Still, Hiro's only response was so stare half-lidded her way.

"…Is it just me?" Cass asked hesitantly. "…Do you not want to talk to me?"

This time there was an answer. Yet as Hiro spoke, he even managed to surprise himself with how hollow and dead his voice sounded. "Nothing's wrong," he mumbled softly.

Aunt Cass winced, looking down at her hands which were wringing in front of her. She leveled off another deep inhale before pressing as she closed her eyes in a grimace. "I'm going to set up an appointment for you. With someone. To talk to them," she blurted out, not mistaking the fact that Hiro sat up quickly at this. "This way you can find help somewhere, because I have no idea how to help you, honey, and that's all I want to do." She looked up, her eyes glazed over in the light that was coming through the window. "I'm sorry if you don't like it, but it's all I can think of. I just want you to go and talk to someone…"

"There's nothing to talk about," Hiro snapped, his voice suddenly turning acidic. Cass opened her mouth to say something, but Hiro cut her off before she could. "I'm not talking to anyone," he said, allowing no room for objection. His voice was sharp and cutting— he could literally see it cut Aunt Cass in half as his guardian straightened. He was not aware of which was worse: the fact that he had reverted so easily and quickly into this tone, or that it did not faze him to see how much Aunt Cass wilted in the face of it. "I'm absolutely fine. So leave me alone."

Cass straightened, resembling a two-wheeled car struggling to finish its race. "Hiro, you need to get help from someone," she pleaded, the worry causing her words to lack firm stance. "If not from me, then—"

"I'm not talking to anybody!" Hiro yelled suddenly. Aunt Cass bit her words back, her eyes widening to be ten times their normal size at the biting shout. She took a small step backwards, looking unsure as she started to open her mouth again. "If you want to waste your money, then go ahead, but I'm not going to say a word to anyone! I don't need help!" Once again, his aunt tried to restate herself, but the effort was more than pointless. "I just want to be alone! You're always hanging over me!" This was not the issue. It wasn't even anywhere close. But once Hiro began, he could not stop, taking all his frustration and hurt and redirecting it to the woman standing three feet away from him. "Can't you see that you're— that you're suffocating me!? You're always asking me where I've been or what I'm doing or if I'm signing up for college! Just stop! I can't take it anymore, okay!? Is that what you wanted to hear!? Are you satisfied now!? Will you leave me alone!?"

There was silence. Aunt Cass stared at her nephew as if she were just meeting him, as if the person glaring hotly at her was someone she had never seen before a day in her life. The brunette's jaw was slack, and there was a small trail of water marking its way down her face. Hurriedly, she reached up to wipe away the tear, coughing in the back of her throat and taking in a few shaking breaths before managing to get out words. And even then they flimsy and weak— as stable as a sheet of paper. "…I just…I just worry about you," she murmured softly, her words barely a whisper.

"Then stop!" Hiro blustered, locking his jaw backwards as he yanked his comforter back over his head, turning to put his back to her. He curled close to himself once again and shut his eyes tightly. "Just stop." He mumbled. "If you really want to help me then you'll leave me alone. You'll stop bugging me."

"…okay," came the quiet response. Yet again, there was that suffocating blanket of quiet. But then Aunt Cass seemed to turn and leave, a set of footsteps fading down the stairs as Hiro listened intently. And once it became clear that she had gone, and that he was the only one left, he turned and glanced back to the entryway of the room, just the smallest hint of regret lingering in his eyes. But he turned away again, refusing to call out and bring Aunt Cass back. That was the last thing he wanted.

Upon turning back, he caught sight of something on his bedside table: Tadashi's hat. It must have been put there by Aunt Cass. The teenager leaned over, grabbing the cap and realizing that it was still damp from last night. He must have taken it into the shower with him— he honestly couldn't remember if he had left it on the ground or if he had kept it. Turning over onto his side, Hiro stared down at the thing for a few long minutes, feeling his throat swell shut and his eyes start to burn with heat that was openly contradictory to his body temperature.

Hiro curled away from everything else, wishing that the world could disappear with the simple action of covering his head with his blanket. The boy shut his eyes, feeling his own tears overflow and spill down the sides of his face as he clung to the scrap of material that his brother had used to wear nearly every day. If Hiro had died instead of Tadashi, things would be better. If Hiro had died, Aunt Cass wouldn't be crying right now. If Hiro had died, Tadashi would still be with his friends, the whole group laughing as if nothing was wrong, as if his not being there hadn't changed a thing. Because it wouldn't have. If Hiro had died, his brother would still be attending school and accomplishing more for people than Hiro ever could manage in any number of lifetimes.

And like a small little mantra in his head it started to cycle:

Why couldn't I have run into that building?

Why couldn't I have been the one to be ripped apart?

Why couldn't I have died instead?

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A/N: Merry Christmas! Day after, but it's always the thought that counts. For Christmas I've recently acquired a laptop, so the rate of updates can certainly increase. But I think this time before I update I'll wait for more reviews. It takes a lot of work in order to get out chapters this length, and there's been a lack of feedback in response! I want to hear what you guys think about this work and so far I haven't had much at all to go off of!

So the more reviews I get the faster that I'll update! And hopefully I'll be back sooner rather than later! :)


	5. Chapter 5

"…So…overall…how would you describe your mood today, Hiro?"

The room was just one big combination of varying shades of blue. Nearly floor to ceiling, the expanse was colored in the hue. The couch that the despondent teenager slouched in was colored a light baby blue, the matching pillows arranged behind him a much darker. The woman that was speaking was seated in a small armchair that was colored the exact same way— even the small pillow behind her matched the ensemble to a tee. The walls were the color of the ocean on a brightly-lit day; the rug nearer to the entrance of the room the color that the sky would be— if not for the rain and storms that have ravaged the city lately. Subconsciously, Hiro found himself holding his breath, as if he were trapped underneath water, unable to breathe.

The woman sitting across from him gazed at the young boy with a sense of deep concern. Hiro's chin was balanced on the palm of his hand, the boy silent as he stared off to the side, towards one of the pictures that hung on the wall. It was a framed picture of a collection of round rocks— of pebbles. It seemed pointless, he thought. Why would anybody actually hand over money for something as stupid as a picture of rocks that could easily be found by walking three feet out from your house? Once Hiro did not reply to the proposed question, the woman looked down at the clipboard she held, picking up the pen from her lap and starting to write something down in quick scrawls.

Usually when it came to therapists or physiatrists, there would be an organized schedule. One would be allowed visits every Wednesday and Sunday or something along those lines, remaining there for a maximum of two hours to talk about what had happened to them recently in their life, or what their next origin of 'concern' was. Once Aunt Cass had broached the topic of finding someone for him to speak to, that was all that Hiro had been expecting— a collection of hours in his week that he could stare through. Sure, it would be torture; but at least it would be minimal.

However that was not the course of action that Aunt Cass had decided to take. The woman, fully unnerved after the scene in the bathroom Saturday night, had found an alternative. An alternative that led to Hiro spending the majority of his Sunday here in this office, sickened by the overabundance of blue and still fuming from the fight that morning with his guardian. He'd spent nearly the entirety of the day there, the therapist worming out reluctant replies, if any, from the fourteen-year-old. 'It won't be like this every time.' The blonde doctor had assured him swiftly. 'Just until I get to know you a little bit more.' But that still didn't save the boy from being toted down here a second time as soon as he opened his eyes this morning. It didn't even stop Aunt Cass when he pointed out in the car, mostly out of frustration, that it was a weekday— Monday. That she would be missing the early-to-work rush of people trying to shovel in their breakfast before heading off to work. His guardian just waved off the idea, persisting instead to take the trip down here for the second time in a row.

At the sound of that pen scratching down against paper, Hiro twisted around, his train of thought snapping in a half as his eyes flickered over to train onto the woman. He had no idea what she was writing. He had no idea what she'd been writing for the past two hours. He had no idea what she had been writing for the past two days, to be frank. It had to be just an accumulation of the same notes: 'Doesn't reply.' 'Very quiet again.' 'Still nothing.' He had probably said a handful of words to this woman, despite the sheer amount of hours he had been forced to partake on this stupid couch. Perhaps in the back of his mind Hiro hoped that if he didn't say a word, if he didn't show any sign of cooperation, Aunt Cass would stop waking him up early like she had these past forty-eight hours, a pained smile stretched over her face in that unnatural way as she asked him to get up and to get dressed.

But such a thing was not the case. He still was forced out of bed. He was still loaded into the car. He was still required to undertake the silent, thirty minute drive it took to get down to the therapist's office, and he was still forced to sit down in the middle of this huge expanse of blue for what seemed like ages. Aunt Cass had the choice to go back and run the bakery while he was here— he was certainly trapped in the room long enough for her to go back and do just that. However, his guardian never did. The woman, now rendered drawn and tired, always refused to leave, staying instead out in the waiting room and sitting just as long as Hiro did as she waited for her nephew to step out through the door. The therapist had commented on this multiple times, obviously sympathetic to the caring relative. But, just as with the rest of her attempts at 'conversation', Hiro did not acknowledge it much.

However, as the dark-haired boy turned to look her way, the therapist — her name was listed in the Phone Book as Doctor Stapleton — smiled brightly, as if encouraged by the minimal eye contact. "Do you have a specific word in mind?" she pressed, elaborating her question from before as she tilted her head to the side. Then, probably under the impression that a few jokes would be enough to open up the young boy, she grinned as she asked: "Bored?" When Hiro only blinked slowly, she pursed her lips before going on. "Tired? You look a little tired, Hiro; did you sleep at all since our last visit?"

This got a response. But probably not the one Stapleton had been looking for. "No; not really," he murmured, reserved as he turned to resume his staring at the stupid portrait of rocks. It had been more than two hours and she was still pestering him. He could be doing something else right now— he could be doing a million other things rather than just sitting here pointlessly. At the jittery thought, Hiro's legs began to bounce erratically, the young teenager wincing a little bit as he smoothed his hands down the legs of his jeans. The room was too small— the walls were starting to press inward on him bit by slow bit. He just wanted out. He wanted to go home. He wanted to delve under his pillow for his pills or open up the chest at the bottom of his bed for one of the glass bottles stashed there. He wanted something that would help him stop feeling like he was going to split apart at the seams.

Observing the pent-up behavior with a trained eye, Doctor Stapleton slowly cleared her throat, looking back down in order to scribble out even more notes. "Hiro, you've come here a total of two visits now, and you've stayed for quite a long time in order for us to become acquainted." Was that the word she was going to use? "And with the concerning situation that your aunt described to me, you've stayed here much longer than any of my other patients have. And yet I don't feel as if we've made much progress at all; do you feel the same way?" she asked, blue eyes narrowing as the question hung in the air between them. Hiro turned once again at this, perking slightly. Was this the beginning of an order to leave? A dismissal that finally came out as a result of his refusal to cooperate? His mouth nearly ran dry at the prospect of being able to leave and never come back. At being able to get out of this suffocating room and out from under the intrusive gaze of this woman. So, hesitantly, the teenager offered a subtle nod of agreement.

Stapleton returned the gesture, looking somewhat satisfied. "I've asked you many things, but you must be a very quiet boy— I've been talking enough for the both of us since this all started." He kept silent. When could he leave? "But when I asked your aunt after our last talk if you've always been this reserved, she said no; that usually you're very cheery and talkative. That before this, you would nearly always have something to say. And that when you weren't talking, you at least had a smile on your face." There was a long lapse of silence, and the therapist leaned forward, locking her fingers together and narrowing her eyes as she studied him. It was as if he was pinned down, held in place by a sheet of glass underneath a microscope. A defective test subject that had to be surveyed in order to find the error in its system, the mistake in which every other one originated. "…Now, I haven't seen even the smallest hint of a smile from you," the blonde woman went on slowly. "Or an attempt at conversation even. …And I find that a little sad."

Hiro started blandly her way, tight-lipped.

Stapleton sighed softly through her nose before hedging forward. "Do you have any idea what could make you happy?" she prodded further. "Do you know what could make you more content? …Satisfied? Anything that would help to bring that smile back to your face; or let you feel like you can talk again?"

Pills. Alcohol. Cigarettes. Hiro turned away, looking over to the clock to see how much time had passed. Its hands were rigid, fixed their own beat and tempo as they made their way around the face of the timepiece. Tick. Tock. Tick. Tock. Tick. Tock. Repetitive. Unchanging. Just like these visits had been. Just like everything seemed to be now. Hiro's hands went up to clasp tightly in his lap, his fingers intertwining together as he squeezed, trying to get rid of the anxiety-filled energy that was slowly bottling up inside of him. He shifted where he sat, wondering how much more of this he could take. It's already been so long; how much longer could the woman push him when it was so obvious that he was doing all he could not to budge?

"Would it help if we stopped beating around the bush?" she proposed after a moment or two of even more silence between them. So far now it had been standard questions. Nearly all day yesterday had been about seemingly-trivial things. Things like what he liked to do for fun or what his favorite subject in school was or even weirder things such as what his first word was or what his favorite food as a kid had been and what had changed his preference later on in life. Most of the answers – Stapleton had needed them for the file she was making for the boy – had to come from Aunt Cass on the way out, since Hiro was still refusing to speak much. Even today it had mostly been the same things. What his morning routine was, what his nightly one was and how it differed. It was a painstaking process in itself; Hiro was prepared to implode the next time he was asked if he preferred to write with pencils instead of pens. What did it even matter!?

Once Hiro didn't respond, only giving out a short, tempered huff, the doctor cleared her throat before leaning back into her chair, as if she were getting more comfortable for her next step. "Do you want to talk about Tadashi, Hiro?" she murmured softly, and her blue eyes narrowed she gauged the boy's reaction carefully. The teenager's shoulders tensed significantly, his eyes flashing as he turned to look at the woman. He looked reproachful, as if he were preparing himself to snap at her. But any sense of speech that was gathering on the back of the boy's tongue seemed to stop there; the child remained silent, however stiff he had gotten from the few simple words.

She nodded, as if he had confirmed something for her just by his physical response. She wrote something down in her – stupid stupid! – notes before pushing on as if they were conversing about something as simplistic as the weather. "Your aunt told me what happened— she had to, before I could see you and try to see what might be wrong. Of course I tried to diagnose whether or not there was anything else that could have factored into your sudden change in character. But it's hard to tell when you don't want to answer my questions." The sound of the clock on the far wall was deafening by now. "So I have no other alternative but to talk to you about your older brother."

This earned a response; and a sharp one at that. "I don't want to talk about Tadashi."

Stapleton nodded, though the look on her face was a little less than sympathetic. Maybe it was hard to feel something like that for someone you'd spent the past two days with who refused to give way to you. "I understand," she said. Inwardly, Hiro scowled. He doubted that she did. "But right now it seems to be the root of the problem. And my job is to try and talk you through these issues. Do you understand?" she was talking to him as if he was five years old, and the longer she went on, the more irritated and angry the teenager grew. "…Could you tell me a little bit about your older brother? What was he like?"

He was better than I am. Hiro kept the thought to himself like the many others, locking his jaw back as he shifted again on the cushion of the azure sofa. His throat was burning at all of the things that it was holding back, and he tried to remember what it was like to be outside, to not have air that was artificial or stale blowing in your face from a ventilation system. It felt like eons since he had been in the open space, though in reality it had been just this morning. He didn't want to be trapped here. He didn't want to be rooted in place. He didn't want to talk to this woman. And he most certainly did not to talk to her about his older brother.

He was trapped, he was suffocating. Reaching over and grabbing hold on to his arm, Hiro squeezed it tightly, just in the effort to focus on something else. What was Tadashi like? He remembered the way that his brother always woke up in the early hours of the morning when Hiro had called for him, no matter what he had wanted. He remembered the way that, when Hiro had turned seven, Tadashi had built a pillow fort in the living room and hid from Aunt Cass, declaring that there were 'No Girls Allowed.' He remembered how one of the last things that Tadashi had done was turn and smile down at him after the boy had thanked him for all his help in getting to where he had been. He remembered how Tadashi had stapled the flyer for the SFIT Showcase against the wall, and how after the night of the fire, Hiro had climbed up on top of his desk, reaching up and tearing the thing down in a haze of anger and severe grief.

He remembered everything that he had been struggling so hard not to. His fingers curled down at the intrusive thoughts, his nails starting to embed themselves into his skin. Deep crescent shapes were left as he gouged down into his arm, and the skin began to redden from the pain that was being inflicted. However the sensation was background noise to what was going on in front of him. "I really…I don't want to." He mumbled after a long lapse of silence. Stapleton seemed almost confused at this, and Hiro's fingers dug down even further. "I don't want to talk about him." The boy was so desperate that he even added on: "Please."

She did not seem to be swayed by manners, however. "You need to start talking, Hiro." Her tone seemed to have an edge to it, however soft it appeared to be on the outside. And it was all Hiro could do not to flare up even more in response. "Keeping things inside usually ends up being disastrous— not only to you, but to others as well. Don't you care about the rest of your family? About your aunt, who's sitting outside right now?" That wasn't the first time that she had brought up Aunt Cass. But the subtle accusation – that Hiro was harming his guardian – was ridiculous. One of the reasons that he had done what he had was because he was not harming anybody. He wasn't even remotely hurting Aunt Cass with his things. Far from it, in fact. "Because if you keep it all inside, Hiro, eventually it'll just come back up for you. So you need to talk about it."

He was stubborn. "I don't want to."

She swept on as if she had not heard him. "You know that sometimes just talking about people or things can make you feel better about them? I've talked to a lot of people who have lost loved ones, Hiro, and you shouldn't think that I'm lying when I say that this very thing is what's helped a lot of them the most. So why don't you at least tell me a few things about Tadashi? Not a whole lot if you don't want to— we can start small." 'Starting' small meant that they had a ways to go. That this wasn't over and would not be for quite some time. The thought caused Hiro's stomach to curve inward painfully, and the boy gripped both arms, as if he were hugging himself together as his nails dug into his arms with a burning, prickling sensation.

Silence before her incessant prodding came again. "Go on."

It was like Hiro was standing on the edge of a very tall cliff, backing away from the long fall down that was perfectly foreseeable. Yet every time he tried to back away— every time that he tried to save himself from the drop, he was being pushed forward. Encouraged towards what he was trying to avoid with bracing smiles and pointless assurances, first by Aunt Cass and now by Doctor Stapleton. They weren't him; they weren't the ones that were going to fall if they walked forward. So why on Earth did they think that they knew what was best for him? Why on Earth did they think themselves the wiser? He was just doing all he could to try and avoid the plummet. But every time that Aunt Cass stopped him and asked him questions, every fight they had, and now every question proposed by the woman across from him, made such a thing impossible.

He swallowed down the thickness festering in his throat. "…I— …He was…"

Stapleton smiled at him, as if he were a child taking their first, wavering steps. She leaned a little closer to the boy and her grip on the pen in her hand tightened just slightly. It was unquestionable the amount of effort she had spent in these two days with Hiro. Usually her practice went as such— she would begin intrusive, and then once the problem had been stated and once the issue was established, throughout the other visits, the more scheduled ones, they picked the problem apart bit by bit together. However try as she might, Hiro was as open as a clam; perhaps approaching things in a roundabout way would improve the rather nonexistent results so far. "It doesn't have to be much," she repeated, feeling an inkling of excitement and even relief as she looked at the teenager. "Just tell me a few things about Tadashi."

Hiro fixed his gaze firmly on the wooden flooring below him, the only part of the room that wasn't blue. He dug his heels down into the grain, his nails biting holes and scrapes into his arms underneath the sleeves of his sweatshirt. He couldn't describe Tadashi in just a few words— it was impossible to do, because it would never be good enough. But then again it didn't seem like anything was good enough anymore. The boy grimaced, a frown pulling down the edges of his lips as he slowly shook his head. "...He was better than me," he said after a moment, his words so small and soft that Stapleton had to lean even closer in order to hear. "…He was stronger than me." A frown made its way over the specialist's face, and she looked almost confused at the choice in words. But Hiro didn't even glance up at her, studying the design of the wood and wondering if it had been there since the very beginning or if it had been branded into the thing forcibly. "…And he shouldn't have been the one to die."

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The appointment ended earlier than it had yesterday. It was nearing 4:00 in the afternoon by the time that the door leading into the therapist's office opened. Aunt Cass had been alternating seats, trying to busy herself and ultimately draw any unnerving thoughts away from her nephew by seeking out the 'perfect' seat. The one near the far left was too drafty underneath the vent, the one in the middle was too creaky, the one second to that one was too awkward, and the one next to that was too hard. She settled with the one on the far right. Telling herself firmly that it was because it was situated next to the bouquet of flowers and it had within itself the perfect combination of padding to be appropriate. She told herself this rather than admit that the reason she lingered in this seat was because it was closest to the door, putting her closer to her nephew that was inside.

So when the door opened, she immediately sat up erect. The brunette got up to her feet, a smile spreading like wildfire over her face as Hiro walked out. But the fourteen-year-old hardly waited for her; the boy brushed by instead, looking worn-out and more importantly furious. Cass' face fell as she turned to watch the young boy head out to the car instead, his shoulders hunched as he shrugged open the door only to let it fall closed behind him. He didn't wait to see if his guardian was following, and, disheartened, Cass just turned and fished out the key to her vehicle so that she could unlock it for him.

Once she did, she turned back around in order to face the woman that she had met shortly ago. Yet as she fixed her hungry gaze on her, she was reminded just how much she was depending on this person, however short their time had been in one another's company. And when she spoke, her voice was clear in the message of her desperation. "So?" she asked, more or less demanding a positive response. The blonde shifted her weight from foot to foot, and this only furthered Cass' distress. "What happened? Was it better than last time?" It had to be better than last time. Last time the visit had occurred almost directly after a fight between the two of them; and he hadn't been expecting the trip in the first place. This was better— he had known that it would be happening this time around, and he wasn't going in so angry and hurt. …Was he?

The woman took a moment to gather her thoughts, it seemed. But then she looked down. At first Cass assumed it was because she just couldn't bear to hold her gaze anymore. But then the blonde straightened, having loosened a piece of paper out from underneath the grip of her clipboard as she extended out the thing for the guardian to take. "I didn't get a whole lot out from him," she said, nearly identical to her report from last time. Yet as the stricken aunt began to look crestfallen, the doctor swept on. "But what I did manage to get was enlightening enough.

"Your son—" She was about to launch into full detail, but was hindered on the title. Shaking her head with a touch of red embarrassment showing in her ears, Stapleton cleared her throat. "Sorry— he's your nephew. I keep forgetting." Cass opened her mouth to say that it was fine; that, really, she often made the same exact mistake. But the therapist was speaking before she could formulate her own words. "From looking at the boy's file, and taking in what you've told me, he is a very pressing case. With his parents dying when he was so little, there could be some long-term effects of anxiety or fear of abandonment that was awakened with the more recent passing of his brother. This isn't an uncommon thing— a lot of the teenage depression cases I work with have originated from the death of a family member or a loved one."

Cass had stiffened once the nuts and bolts were revealed, however if the doctor noticed this at all she gave no heed, merely sweeping on easily as she thumbed through her notes. There seemed to be a surprising amount— from what the specialist had said, Hiro had spared little in the way of words. The aunt's eyes drilled out the window of the cheery-looking building, over to the car where she could see the boy in question. Her nephew was slouched against the door of the passenger side, already with his seatbelt on as he had his head ducked down into his arms. He was more than ready to go, the woman noticed. But that was not the detail that stuck out to her as she gazed out at the boy who seemed suddenly much too little.

Depression. The mere thought of the word was enough to curb the woman, and she knew that if she spoke it aloud, it would leave a sour tang in the back of her throat. She had known of course— she had known just a few days after Tadashi's death that that was what Hiro had fallen into being. And it had obviously only gotten worse from that point. But now that it was out, now that the term was alive to more than just the eyes of her, it felt…surreal. That someone who she had spent nights laughing with, had sheltered from anything and everything that could serve harm, had protected and loved with surprising ferocity….was not the same person. They were sad and sullen and wanted nothing to do with her anymore. To her, the correct term for that should be heartbreaking. But no. It was depression.

"He shows very prominent signs of stress and high levels of apprehension. He's very reserved in every sense of the word, and when I finally asked about Tadashi, you could certainly see how much that had affected him. He's very sensitive, which is a normal trait in kids when they are in the kind of spot that he is." The doctor then paused for the briefest of moments, pursing her lips slightly as if she was thinking something over. But as Cass turned and rested her rather hopeless gaze onto her, the blonde seemed to skip over whatever was playing around her mind. Instead she inclined her head down to the slip of paper that Cass had taken from her and was now hugging subconsciously against her chest. "I wrote down a few prescriptions," she said, smiling gently as she hoped in the back of her mind the list would help quell some of the brunette's obviously-wrecked nerves

`However, the woman only seemed confused, looking down at the slip of paper in her hands for the first time since she had grabbed it. It made even less sense as she stared down at the combinations of letters and numbers that were probably supposed to make sense. "…Prescriptions?" she echoed, sounding bemused. These didn't look like any prescriptions she had ever seen. Granted that mostly the only type that she had been given for Hiro or Tadashi both had been things like a specific kind of Tylenol or something to stop the spread of Chicken Pox. These looked nothing like what she had seen before. "…For…?"

"Normally these are given to kids to balance out their hormones. You see, the main cause for depression is a disruption in a gene that codes for the hormone Serotonin. Usually this specific hormone helps regulate a lot of things—things like mood and social behavior, someone's appetite, how much they sleep, what they do, what they choose to remember or just disregard…all in all, it's typically the first thing to try and fix in someone who's showing signs of depression. And from what you've told me your nephew has been showing these signs for a few months now and it's only gotten worse. So until he decides that it's time to open up and talk more about himself and what he is experiencing, all we have to go off of is that there is something wrong with the chemical balance in his brain. Are you with me so far?" she asked, as if she were a teacher coaching a student through a fairly complicated math lesson.

Cass offered a small, hesitant nod. Though with every word she felt less like she was learning and more like she was being dragged through glass.

"So until we know more, I suggest that you give him some of that. Trial medicine, which at this stage is what it's called, is usually always guaranteed to at least make some sort of good. Often outweighing the very rare 'bad's that it could bring along. They're minimal doses and they aren't that strong until we narrow things down a bit more for his specific needs. I gave you a list to choose from and I would suggest going down to his medical doctor to see which one they would agree with on terms with whatever other medicine he is taking, if any, coupled with his personal history or background. I would suggest going as soon as you could." She glanced down at her wrist, and the watch that was ticking fast there. "Preferably today, I would say. Hiro is a very concerning situation in my eyes; especially when you told me what's been happening and how long it's been stretching out for him. My opinion is that the sooner that things play out, the better."

Cass was nodding, drinking in every word. Of course she would go to the doctor's. As soon as she was gone from here. She would demand the best medicine that could be offered—she would demand anything and everything that was needed. There wasn't a single question about what she would do when it came to her surviving nephew— because the answer was always 'everything.' However, one part of the large speech that Stapleton had given stuck with the woman, and she asked hesitantly: "…May I ask you something? Just…really quick?"

"Of course you can," she said immediately, probably expecting at least one or two inquires.

Cass Hamada turned, looking over in the direction of the car. Hiro had not moved from his curled position. He was still holed away, and there was a pang in the brunette's heart that nearly stole away every breath that was inside of her body. She wasn't Hiro's mother; she knew that much. But she did know how to perfectly make Hiro's favorite hot wings. She knew that when the boy was little he used to wake her up at exactly seven in the morning on her birthday with orange juice and a slightly-burnt Pop-Tart. She knew Hiro's favorite fruit and she knew that once of his favorite colors was red and that he always smiled whenever she brought home Gummy Bears for him from the store. She knew that the boy dabbled in the hobby of kite-building, and that he liked to fiddle around with online gaming and brag about his achievements. Up until now she had known every little detail about her little guy. …And now all that she knew for certain was that ever since Tadashi had died, these things that she had loved so dearly had changed.

"You've said you've handled things like this before," she said softly after a pause.

"Yes." The answer was immediate. "It's an unfortunate detail, but almost half of my patients tend to be on the younger side. And it's certainly not uncommon for teenagers to become depressed. Already during that stage of their lives, developing hormones and genes can get a little haywire. Sometimes there aren't any physical reasons for the change in behavior— it's just a product of a few genes being altered, or an inherent chemical imbalance."

But that hadn't been along the lines of what Cass had been looking for as a reply. Keeping her eyes locked onto her little boy— the boy that she could not have possibly loved more, even if he was her own son – she pressed further. "And these cases…" It felt odd to refer to it that way. As situations, rather than actual people. Was Hiro just that, now? A statistic? A number among many others? Certainly not to her. "…how do they normally turn out?" she asked, her words barely audible as she asked the question she wasn't sure she wanted an answer to. There wasn't a reply at first, and she turned to find that the therapist seemed thoughtful. Hesitant. So she asked again, her voice clearer this time as she silently demanded a response. "Does everything work out in the end? Does it get…does it get easier?" Her voice bent a little towards the end of this, crumbling under the weight of what the inquiry held.

Stapleton held Cass' gaze. "It differs," she said, reserved as she took close care in answering. When Cass did not seem satisfied, Stapleton offered her a quick smile. "Records are a flimsy thing when it comes to this sort of deal. Everyone responds differently to help offered to them. But…" Again there was that pause. Why were there so many of them? "I'm pretty sure that Hiro will take the help in time. From what you've told me, he was a very smart boy." Cass stiffened at the use of past tense, her hands balling into tight fists at the implication that her nephew was now less than a genius. She might as well have called him inept, or stupid. However, the doctor once again did not pay mind to the reaction. "It might be difficult in short-term's sense; but with you pushing hard enough for this, even if he does not want to cooperate like you were talking about yesterday, you will be doing him a favor in the long run. You know?"

When it looked as if even more assurance was needed, the specialist added: "I made a hole in my schedule for these two days, and I will be more than willing to do it again if you need any more help. But right now, I think that for the time being, you need to get him acquainted with whatever medicine your doctor agrees to assign. That'll take a few days, and then you can come back for a shorter appointment— one that would only be a few hours instead. Maybe once he gets some of this medicine into his system he'll be easier to talk to, and I can get clearer answers out of him. Which will then lead to a better look into what's going on his head." Cass remained quiet, and Stapleton gave her a polite, but slightly impatient, smile. "I have an appointment with another one of my clients soon, though, so I'm afraid that if you have any more questions or concerns then you'll have to call me. I wrote down my number on that piece of paper just in case you lost my other one."

Clearly it was a not-so-subtle dismissal. And Cass should have taken it— after all, this woman had just been trying, rather pointlessly, to work on her nephew for the past two days straight. It couldn't have been easy at all, no matter how much money was being poured into the venture. But she still had a question; one that would not be able to rest for much longer as Cass looked down at the sheet she held. "And what if he doesn't want to take the medicine?" she asked, sounding almost pathetic as her eyes rounded out slightly in worry. "What if he won't take it and he just gets worse…? What am I supposed to do?"

"You're his guardian," Stapleton answered. "Legally, you know better than he does, otherwise he wouldn't be living under your roof." If it was supposed to be a joke, Cass was not laughing. "Some of these things are black and white. If he doesn't want to take them, then you have to make it clear that he doesn't have much of a choice. Surprisingly during these times, it isn't the child that has the toughest outlook; it's the parents. Mainly because you're in charge of them. That means you have their best interest at heart, and no matter what it looks like to them, you have to remember that. It doesn't matter what he wants right now, because as of this moment he is nowhere near his right state of mind. You just have to make that clear with him." She glanced down at her wrist again before starting to turn back towards her office. "I have to get going," she began to excuse herself. "My next patient is trying to get over a thing with germs— he won't appreciate things too much if I don't disinfect the couch before he arrives."

That was what she was expected to do? Force the things down his throat? He was already miserable from these few trips down here; was she expected to add this onto the list of misery as well? It seemed like all Hiro and her did these days was look away from each other. That, or fight. Ignored calls, saddened stares, and dismal expressions…how long would all of these things keep going on? How long until it would stop hurting Aunt Cass just to look at her little boy? "…Do you have any children, Doctor Stapleton?" she asked suddenly, her voice quiet as she suddenly shifted topics.

Stapleton perked. She had walked back to her office in the time that it had taken the brunette to land on these words. Her door was halfway ajar, and the doctor lingered over the threshold as she looked back into the makeshift waiting room. She seemed frustrated at the additional stop, but as the inquiry registered, she melted slightly, a smile crawling over her face as she gave as slow nod. "I do," she replied, and Cass recognized the sense of love that vibrated in each syllable spoken. They were in her own voice whenever she spoke of Hiro or Tadashi. "Two little girls," Stapleton went on.

Cass turned, looking back over to Hiro to see that the boy had sat upright, looking pained as he took to staring out the window again. Brooding. Eyes lifeless and dull. Where had his laughter gone? Where had all the love drained away and why couldn't it come back? "Then how…can you possibly make it seem like this will be easy?" she whispered.

But Stapleton had already vanished back into her office.

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When Cass got back into the car, she was already armed with a smile. Hiro barely glanced over at her as she snapped the engine into motion, looking away just as quickly as his eyes had flickered over to her in the first place. Aunt Cass' smile wavered slightly as the teenager just took to staring out the window again, and against herself, she blew out a small sigh through her nose. Her heart was twisted and sick in the face of her cold nephew, but she struggled against it anyway, doing her best not to give up. "How did it go?" she asked, the question coming as second nature to the woman. How many times had she waited for Hiro to crawl up into the car just so she could ask how his day went; had he liked school, had he had fun? When he didn't reply at first, a shadow flitted over the woman's face. "…Was it better than yesterday?" she pressed after a moment.

Hiro's voice was thin and resolute when he stated: "I'm not going back there."

Cass winced. But, remembering what Stapleton had told her just a few minutes ago, she steeled herself as best she could. "You have to," she said, forcing her voice not to show the guilt that was starting to choke her. "It's the only way that I know how to help you, Hiro; and it will help you by the end of this. Doctor Stapleton was highly recommended in the Phone Book," she tried not to notice the boy roll his eyes at this. "I know that it's hard for you and I know that you don't want to do this, but you have to know that this is the only way that everything will turn out okay."

"You don't know that!" Hiro snapped, scowling through the windshield. He didn't even turn to look at Aunt Cass as he objected hotly. The young boy shook his head in a fit of worked-up frustration. "You're just saying that to try and make it seem like what you're doing is called for! But it isn't! I told you specifically that I didn't want to do this and you shove me into that stupid room for two whole days anyway. I don't want to sit there for hours on end and I don't want somebody looking at me like I'm some kind of charity case!" Only now did he look at Aunt Cass, and when he did his eyes were glazed over, his teeth gritting together in a twisted frown. "I don't want to talk about Tadashi and I don't want to come back here I just want to be alone, and that's not a bad thing— that don't mean that I need any of this. At all." He paused, swallowing. "…Can't you just understand that?"

At the soft, subtle pleading, Cass almost caved. She almost lunged forward to wrap her nephew into a tight hug; she almost carded her fingers lovingly through his hair, shushing him softly as she assured him that it would be alright. That she wouldn't go on to hurt him even more; that all she wanted was for him to be happy, and that if this was making things worse, then she would put a stop to it as soon as she could. But looking at him, at his broken-down expression, she could not remember the last time that he had laughed, the last time that he had seemed to be genuinely having a good time. All she could remember was the words that he had shouted at her Sunday morning. And the way that he had been found in the shower Saturday night, nearly unconscious and trembling underneath the cold water from the shower. And before she could hesitate, she was speaking. "No," she said, literally seeing the brief dash of hope that had wriggled into Hiro's eyes leak away entirely. "I can't understand. I can't understand how things have gotten this wrong. And until I do this is how it has to be. You have another appointment on Friday."

Hiro opened his mouth, another battle already building on the back of his tongue. Cass braced herself, holding her nephew's sharp gaze as best she could. But it seemed that in the middle of his thoughts, he stuttered, realizing that any more fighting was pointless and would only be in vain. He shut his mouth, closing his eyes as he turned his back to the woman. Aunt Cass was left surprised at the sudden act of giving up, but mostly she was just left feeling injured, as if she had been slapped across the face instead. Ducking down slightly, the woman turned and started out from the parking lot, turning the car in the general direction of the medical center she had been taking Hiro to get check-ups in since he was three.

However she was stopped short as Hiro mumbled softly. "Can I please just go home?"

"…We have to go to your doctor's," she said hesitantly, glancing over at him as she bit down on her lower lip. "I have to talk to him about what kind of medicine I should get for you. We have to make sure that it's the right one and that it'll help you the most…." 'Because I can't bear for things to go on like this much longer.' She did not voice the words, no matter how hard they were pushing at the barrier of her teeth. Brightly, trying to offer reassurance once the boy did not turn, she said: "It shouldn't take too long. We just have to talk to your doctor and go over your medical history and then add a few things. We should be back around six or—"

"I just want to go home," he repeated, his voice curling inward pathetically. He reached up and buried his head into his hands, his fingers curling in to dig his nails into his skull. The sight was more than heart wrenching for the older woman, and she fought the urge to stop the car and pull him close yet again. "You can drop me off or something, can't you? I just want to lay down; I don't feel good." Cass hesitated. She didn't want to leave Hiro alone anymore at all, if she was being honest with herself. The thought was suddenly unnerving after everything that had happened, and it showed in the nervous way that she gripped the steering wheel a little tighter. As if seeing this, Hiro pressed. "Please?"

They drove in silence for a few minutes, Cass gnawing on her bottom lip as Hiro stared dismally out the window at the passing cars and buildings. The brunette swallowed, allowing herself just the smallest bit more of agony before she took a sudden sharp turn to the left, barely having even a second to turn her blinker on before executing the shift. Hiro stirred at this, grabbing at his car door with a jarred expression as he tried to right himself. "Sorry, sorry," Aunt Cass mumbled, frazzled as she recovered a little bit before going on. But when she did, mapping out the route that would take her the alternate way back, she heaved a short sigh. "Okay," she said, her voice obviously holding a small tone of warning. "I can drop you off and go to the doctor's myself. But you have to stay home, Hiro, do you understand me?" Her words were sharp and barbed. "If I come home and you aren't there, we're going to have a problem."

"I know," he mumbled in response, not sounding thrilled at all that Aunt Cass had caved into his favor.

She hesitated, tempted to pry even further for a clear-cut response of: 'Yes, I will not leave the house while you're gone; of course I won't.' But as she opened her mouth, she decided to choke it back down instead. She couldn't push him even farther— she couldn't bring herself to do anything of the sort. So she just took the two-word reply, trying to assure herself that it would be enough and that she could trust her nephew to be home alone for a few hours. She had already forced him to go to the therapists' office twice now for obscenely-long amounts of time, and it was clear that furthering this whole situation would only make him even more strung-out.

It was better for him to go home. He could lay down and clear his mind a little bit more. Once Aunt Cass purchased the medicine and brought it back, and once the boy started to take the daily dosages, things would even out. Hiro would being to revert back to his old self; and with the help of Doctor Stapleton, things would go back to normal. Like a scale being equalized, it would all balance itself out. Everything would be okay then. This was just the home stretch.

And she told herself this repeatedly— the entire thirty minutes it took to get back to their home.

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"Rock, Paper, Scissors!" At the last call to action, the two boys jerked forward, one throwing scissors and the other choosing rock. A pleased smile spread over the victor, and they leaned forward to lightly tap the other's hand, mimicking the action of crushing his throw. The other, their face rounded with youth, seemed perturbed by this. However the other just laughed lightly, leaning over to ruffle the small child's hair. "What do you expect, little brother?" Tadashi grinned a little crookedly. "You always throw scissors."

Rather than defend his actions, Hiro just offered a large, slightly gap-toothed grin. "Leonardo da Vinci invented the scissors," he declared, swinging his legs a little where he sat. The toddler was always bursting with facts and interesting trivia, though this one Tadashi had not heard before.

"Really? I didn't know that." Tadashi said, offering a smile of his own as he looked down at his baby brother. "Geez; next time you make me cut out finger puppets with you, I'll give some thanks to the Renaissance." Hiro giggled, grinning with an obvious air of pride at the fact that he had known something his older brother hadn't. "Why don't you tell Aunt Cass?" Tadashi went on to ask, glancing up to see the woman in deep conversation with the person she had hired to take their photographs. They had taken a few of them so far today, but it was slow going. Cass had said something along the lines of needing a few frames of them together for the hallway back home, as well as something for their Christmas card that year. It was taking most of the day, though, which was part of the reason why Tadashi was trying to curb Hiro's attention in the effort to make sure that he didn't get too bored or fussy. His aunt seemed to be on the verge herself by now, though. "I'm pretty sure that she could use some interesting pieces of trivia. She's getting a little frustrated."

Hiro brightened, looking more than enthusiastic at the new idea. "Okay!" he chirped, hopping off of his bench and scurrying over in the direction of his aunt. Tadashi stood as well, already calling out a cautionary warning to the younger boy at his sudden takeoff. As if roused by the call, Aunt Cass turned from the photographer to look back at the pair, looking surprised at the fact that she was now being charged at by the barely-three-foot child. She stretched out her arms willingly enough to scoop up the boy, however she was too late before Hiro took a misstep, falling forward and landing with a hard thud on the ground. It had sent a shock up through the boy's entire body, and breath was found suddenly harder to come by.

Aunt Cass went absolutely rigid, thoroughly alarmed by the pitch forward. She looked as if she were about to rush down to the little boy's level; but she was nowhere near as quick as Tadashi had been. Like a slide into home during a baseball game, the young boy skidded to a stop, crouching down low and immediately reaching out to help the boy sit back up. The toddler's knee was scraped and bleeding— the fall had seemed harmless enough at first but at the sight of the blood that was welling up from the gash in the boy's skin, it was apparently proved otherwise. Hiro's eyes had been welling up with water already, but at the sight of the torn skin and blood, he started to bawl. A typical reaction for someone so little, and though Aunt Cass began to look panicked, Tadashi was the opposite.

"Aw, c'mon, Hiro; it isn't that bad, is it?" he asked, his tone soothing as he studied the injury. The younger did not reply, head ducked down into his hands as he cried heavily. Tadashi frowned, wishing that he had brought along a Band-Aid or something. For all that the three-year-old could manage, Hiro was always clumsy. Some foresight should have been developed in the sense that they would be walking around the city for photos today. Hesitating a moment, the elder brother contemplated before suddenly lashing forward, gripping the boy's shoulders tightly and giving him a jarring shake.

"Oh no!" Tadashi gasped dramatically, the three-year-old's sobs cutting off into a shocked hiccup at the sudden rattle. "Oh no, oh no!" he blabbed, watching as the boy looked more confused than anything now. "Your leg! Oh my gosh; your leg! It's ruined! It's done for!" At the obviously-comical shouts and cries, Hiro blinked, his crying subsiding slowly as a hint of laughter started to bleed into the boy's sharp gasps. "Quick, Aunt Cass, we have to run down to the Hospital! This boy needs an amputation, and fast!" He shot up to his feet, stooping down a heartbeat after to scoop his little brother up in his arms, grinning as he bounced him up and down erratically. This proved itself to be effective— the boy was grinning ear to ear now, giggles rising up from him like bubbles. And they only increased as Tadashi started to spin around in a tight circle, causing a dizzy spell to overtake both of them.

Once the spinning got to be too much, Tadashi came to stop, panting as he offered his younger brother an overplayed, concerned frown. There were probably splotches of blood dying themselves near the bottom of his pants leg, but such a concern was the last thing on the older brother's mind. He only reached up quickly to poke at Hiro's nose. "Are you okay?" he asked intensely. Hiro was beaming, and he nodded vigorously with yet another burst of laughter. "Are you quite sure?" Tadashi demanded further. Another nod, more giggles. "Okay then. I don't have to get an ambulance?" Hiro shook his head, and Tadashi nodded his in response. "Alright then," he said, leaning down and plopping the little one back down on the ground, making sure that he regained his footing before pulling away. And when he did, he raised his eyebrows in a small smile. "That's why you don't go running off, Knucklehead; you'll fall."

The photographer was the one to break up the scene. "We're losing daylight, people!" he chided, as if it were their fault that this had been taking so long. And, granted, they might have been slowed down when Hiro and Tadashi broke out into a game of tag, and their progress might have been stagnated for a while when Hiro ran off to try and chase a frog and Aunt Cass and Tadashi had been forced to track him back down. …But really, the blame was hardly resting on them. "Last picture!" Apparently this had been decided on as the final spot. And it certainly looked like a winner— they were overlooking a large majority of San Franksokyo, with its large red bridge lining the horizon. Granted, for the picture it would probably be out of focus; but at this time of the afternoon, with a few of the city lights switching on, it looked like it could make a good setting for a picture. One that would look even better in a frame in the hall.

It was getting late, too. Aunt Cass glanced at the wristwatch that the photographer was wearing and walked over, closing the distance between herself and the children before she gathered up Hiro in her arms. "Alright, kids," she said as she balanced the little one on the side of her hip. "Let's do this last one and then we can go out for some ice cream; how's that sound?" There was a chorus of agreement from the two boys, and Tadashi kept in line with his aunt as the woman walked to the edge of the bridge that they were standing on. Turning and setting Hiro down on one of the benches that lined the sides, she checked his knee briefly, offering him a loving kiss on the top of his head as she promised that she would find a Band-Aid for him as soon as this whole thing was finished.

The photographer, satisfied at the finality that this shot seemed to hold, stepped back to arrange themselves properly for the picture. They were mumbling underneath their breath, things like what to do with the lighting and the glare that the setting sun might give off. In the meanwhile, Aunt Cass arranged herself so that Hiro, who was standing on top of the bench for his short stature, could be seen. Tadashi took to his aunt's side, glancing over his shoulder to his brother as he crossed his eyes and stuck out his tongue in a comical expression. Hiro responded by rolling his eyes back into his head, throwing the older brother his own funny look in retaliation. He had just figured out how to roll back his eyes, and the tiny kid never seemed to miss the opportunity to show off the skill when there came one. And the chances rose far more than one would expect, Tadashi had found out.

He turned back around once a pressure settled over his neck. Aunt Cass had leaned over to wrap her arms affectionately around the boy's collar, hugging him tightly to herself. As the photographer started to count down from ten to the moment that he would snap the picture, Aunt Cass leaned over, not only so that Hiro could be seen in the picture as well, but so that her cheek was pressed flush against Tadashi's own. And, glancing up at the littler of the Hamada brothers, who had gotten on top of his toes in the effort to be taller, she squeezed the boy a little bit tighter. "I'm so proud of you," she murmured softly, her eyes filled with the emotion as she smiled from ear to ear almost. "…I'm very proud of both of my little guys. I love you two so much!" she announced a little bit louder, gushing over herself like she had the tendency to do.

"Aunt Cass, Aunt Cass!" Hiro chirped, resting his hands on the woman's head as he leaned over in his eagerness. Cass blinked, raising her eyebrows as she glanced back at the boy in a questioning manner. "Leonardo da Vinci invented the scissors! Did you know that? Tadashi didn't! And I did! Isn't that awesome!?" There was a thrilled smile over the little boy's face, and he bounced a little bit on the tips of his feet.

An even larger smile spread over Cass' face if possible. "I've gotta have the smartest little kids in San Franksokyo!" she trilled, giving a few small hops herself, pulling in tight so that, altogether, there was less than an inch between the family. Hiro grinned toothily and Tadashi smiled as well, a small laugh escaping the ten-year-old as he turned back to look at his aunt. And as he did, there was a sharp order from the photographer, a one-word command that they had heard about a million times this day alone.

"Smile!"

…

It was the little things that managed to stick and lodge itself into your brain. And, eventually, it was the little things that, once accumulated and stacked on top of one another, could end up doing the most damage. Hiro, sitting on top of Tadashi's bed, stared down at the framed photo that he had taken down on his way back upstairs. He looked at himself, much younger, and at Aunt Cass, much happier. They both looked happier, in fact. But that was not the main focus of the boy's— no, it wasn't even close. His eyes, heavy with exhaustion and weariness, were drilled onto the small form of his older brother. He was, predictably, younger and smaller; but his smile. His smile was exactly the same as Hiro had remembered, and the sight of the familiar expression was enough to cause the knife in his chest to twist wickedly to the side.

Aunt Cass had pulled up to the house and dropped him off nearly half an hour ago, leaning over before the boy could even make a move to get out with her regular call of: "Last Hug!" Though this one had been significantly quieter than her normal chirp, and there was a sense of bitter regret to the embrace as it enveloped the child. Hiro did not return the hug, his arms limp and lifeless as he just waited for the woman to pull away. Frustration and irritation burned thick in the boy's throat, and as he curled closer to himself on the bed, his hands shook with the pent-up emotions, the picture he held close blurring slightly as his vision faltered.

He remembered that day. The way that Tadashi had played with him when the young boy was getting too fidgety or whiney. He remembered how Aunt Cass had swooped down and lifted him high into the air after this very picture had been taken, spinning around to plant raspberries into his stomach. He remembered how Tadashi had dropped a rock down off of the bridge they had taken this picture on, counting the seconds it had taken until it hit the water below. He remembered how they had gone out for ice cream afterwards, and Hiro had gotten the same flavor as Tadashi had only to have his melt in about five minutes.

He wondered if that was because it had truly been a fun day, or if it was just because, now, he would give anything to go back to it.

Aunt Cass had pulled away from the building once she had watched Hiro vanish inside, and she had been gone for quite some time now. He didn't know how long it would take for his aunt to finish up at the doctor's, and therefore he did not know what time she would come home. He assumed somewhere around dinner, and he turned to look back at the clock on the wall. It was nearly five.

Abruptly he stood up from the bed. The boy walked over to the other end of the room, ducking down to pick up his backpack, which had been strewn on the ground probably quite some time ago. There were a few things inside of it from its last use— a notebook, a few pencils, and a binder, which showed just long ago he had actually used the thing. Reaching into the bag he tossed out the binder, replacing it instead with the hijacked picture he had taken off of the wall near the stairs.

Busying around the room, he gathered up the things that he knew he needed. He opened up the chest at the foot of his bed and took out the blanket that he had stuffed inside. And upon removal of the threadbare thing, the few sparse bottles of alcohol that he had managed to keep were revealed. It was only a few— the rest he hadn't had the self-control to refrain from drinking down. Nevertheless, the boy began stuffing the few glasses into the backpack, putting them down on their sides in the attempt to try and conserve as much space as he could. And then he stuffed the blanket down once more in order to obscure the sight of all the empty ones that he had hidden there as well, ensuring that the sight was covered. And then, once he was done with managing the bottles, Hiro drew up to a standing position, walking over to the other end of his bed and delving underneath his pillow.

His fingers wrapped tightly around the bottle there, as if it were a lifeline he had learned to cling to. And into the backpack it went, landing with a small clink on top of the mound of bottles already there. As he did this, as he packed away the few things, he was mumbling under his breath, the words barely audible. "I'm not going to stay here like I'm some stupid charity case. I'm not going back to that stupid office and I'm not taking any stupid medicine." It was as if everything that had been building up inside of him, everything that he had wanted to say back in the car to Aunt Cass, was all spilling out now, and he was unable to hold it back anymore. "You don't even listen when I talk anymore. You wouldn't even listen to me if I tried to explain, so why should I stay here? This entire thing is stupid, it's idiotic, and it's ridiculous. It's—"

As he straightened, readying himself to go down the steps, he hesitated. His eyes were drawn to the side, over to the bed in which he had been sitting just a few minutes ago. Yesterday morning, after he and Aunt Cass had fought, he had returned Tadashi's hat that was on his bedside table over to its rightful spot on his older brother's bed. And now it lay there untouched, seeming much smaller now than how it did when it was on tucked down on top of Tadashi's head. And, standing at the top of the stairs, one hand on the railing and the other on the strap of the backpack slung over one shoulder, Hiro felt that same twisting sensation in the pit of the stomach.

Quickly, before he could give himself the chance to change his mind, the boy walked back over to the bed, leaning down and picking up the thing. For a moment he was still, his eyes scouring every stitch and every piece of felt on the hat. His thumb ran itself back and forth across the brim, and in the rear of his mind, he wondered whether or not the cap would still smell like smoke if he buried his nose down into it. Not allowing himself the chance to find out, Hiro reached up instead to put it on top of his head, tugging down the hat, which was a little bit big on him. He paid little mind, though, only turning and trudging back over to the steps.

Once he got down to the lower level of the building, he veered to the right, rounding the counter and going over to the cash register. His face was unchanged as he leaned forward, typing in the required code and this time taking out fistfuls of money. Of tens and twenties that he stuffed away into the front of his hoodie and into the pockets of his jeans. He didn't even try to be inconspicuous, taking as much that would fit before slamming the thing shut as loud as he could.

And as he turned to make for the exit of the store, he slipped his phone out from his pocket and into his hands, making quick work as he texted this time, rather than call. He found the number that he was looking for— locating it easily considering he only had three numbers in his mobile and the other two were Aunt Cass and Wasabi. Cutting it short and simple, he resigned himself to typing out one singular phrase, knowing that it would be more than enough.

Help.

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By the time Aunt Cass came home, she had a small plastic bag looped over her arm which contained the prescription that the doctor had settled on. It had taken about one and a half to two hours in order to leaf through Hiro's medical history and for Aunt Cass to brief the doctor on what was happening now with the child. But she managed to be given a name for the new medicine, and she was even given the opportunity to be able to pick it up as well, which had taken another long while in consequence. But now she was back, striding through the door of her bakery. There was a large smile on her face, showing not only her effort to try and make up with Hiro, but showing as well the newfound hope that she had felt once she had been given the small casing of healing tablets at the office.

"Hiro!" she called, her voice much lighter than it had been last time she had spoken to her nephew. There wasn't a call back to her, but she was unbothered, turning instead to start walking up the steps once she locked the door up behind her. "…I'm back!" She continued, figuring that her voice would carry up to the boy's room. Again there was no reply, and she gave a tired sort of smile, feeling a small twist of guilt. "I was thinking that we could maybe go out to eat tonight!" she continued, hoping that she could try and smooth over the rifts between them. "We can go wherever you want! …And then maybe afterwards we can go to your favorite ice cream shop! …What do you say? …Hiro?"

The woman frowned, pained as she started to scale the steps up to the boy's room. "…Look, Hiro, I know that you're angry, and you have every right to be with all I'm making you do. But you have to understand that it hurts me just as much as it hurts you— maybe even more. I just want to see your smile again, honey. And I just think that…if you could…" Her voice trailed off, the woman coming to a stop at the top of the stairs. She blinked, looking a tiny bit confused as she looked around the room to find that it appeared vacant. Cass was silent for a moment, but she refocused as her eyes landed on top of Hiro's bed, realizing that there was a mound hidden away underneath the covers.

"Hiro, sweetie, please don't hide from me," she murmured, going over and putting a hand down on top of the small hill. "…You just have to take two pills and then we can go out to eat. Doesn't that sound good? We can go find somewhere that has the best chicken wings in the city. …Huh?" Her voice broke as she prompted the child, and hesitantly she reached over take away the covers. "All you have to do before that is take a small amount of—" She was cut off suddenly, her pained grimace slowly evolving into horror. She dropped the comforter of the bed, a hand clapping over her mouth as she was left staring at just a bunch of pillows. The shape hadn't been Hiro's. And the boy hadn't just been ignoring her.

"Hiro!?" she shouted, her voice rising into sharp panic as she whirled around, scouring every inch of the room for her nephew. He wasn't anywhere to be seen. "Hiro!?" she screamed, half-tripping down the stairs as she flew into the living room. He wasn't in the kitchen, and he hadn't been in the café, the bathroom door was open… "Hiro!" Cass yelled, her voice grating against her throat. Dropping the plastic bag that she held, the woman went so far as to look into her room to see if the boy had taken refuge there; she even checked the hallway closet, which was far too cluttered with winter gear and unused coats to have space for him in the first place. Each room she looked in was empty. Her nephew was nowhere to be seen.

Should she call the police? Should she call Hiro? Should she ask the neighbors if they had seen him leave? Where had he gone? Was he hurt? Was he in trouble? What on Earth was he thinking? Where could he have gone? Hyperventilation and paranoia was quick to set in on Aunt Cass, and with every passing thought the feeling seemed to grow more and more. Her hands trembled as she raised them up to press against her head, and tears were already welling up from the depths of her eyes. What could she do? What was she supposed to—?

There was a sudden series of knocks on the door. Aunt Cass stiffened at once, her eyes widening to be ten times their normal size. Immediately, her thoughts shifted to the best case scenario. Hiro had stepped out for a few minutes to get some air, and after she had locked the door on her way in he was wanting to get back inside. She jerked, turning around and rushing down to the front door, taking the steps two at a time and nearly tripping over herself three or four times in the process. Blindly, she ripped open the door, her mouth already open as a flurry of words built themselves on top of it. But she was stopped short at the sight that met her, realization and recognition slamming into her stomach like a punch.

Outside, on the front stoop of the building, was the small group of Tadashi's old friends. It took a moment for the names to occur, but eventually they did, just in time for Wasabi to speak up from where he stood. "Sorry to bother you…Miss Hamada…but we were hoping that we could maybe…talk to you?" he asked, obviously hesitant in his words. Off to the side, Honey Lemon was rocking on the balls of her feet, biting down on her lower lip as her hands wrung tightly in front of her.

It took Cass a moment to gather herself, and when she did, she wondered wildly if Hiro was with them. He had to be— this was the group that the boy had taken refuge to when he could not find comfort in being with her. He spent days on end with these people, often without asking for permission first. He had to be with them. Was he hidden in the back? Too short to be seen as he waited for the others to say something to her on his behalf? Or could he be waiting in the car that was parked along the side of the curb? Hurriedly, she fumbled for a moment. "I'm sorry," she said, her voice sounding odd even to her. "I didn't mean to upset him so much. Please, just let me talk to him. Let me clear things up."

Wasabi seemed confused at this, glancing over to GoGo, who looked just as baffled. But the girl shook her head, taking a small step forward as she tucked a lock of black hair behind her ear. "Um…we were hoping that we could talk to you about Hiro," she said, her tone wary. Cass looked a tad confused at this, but she shut her mouth anyway, her eyes flickering every so often over to the car, as if she was waiting to see the small shape of her nephew inside waiting. "We're really worried about him, and we were hoping that if we couldn't talk to him, we could talk to you instead…? It might not be our place or anything, but Hiro's still our friend; and we're really worried about him."

Cass stilled, her heart slowly beginning to drop. "…wait…what?" she rasped.

Wasabi picked it up from there. "When I picked Hiro up a while ago, I didn't get the chance to talk to you. I wasn't thinking much about it, but after a while I realized that it might have been a mistake." Cass's hand, which was still resting on the doorknob, tightened in its grip. "I was driving back home from shopping in a store downtown, and I found him in an alleyway…unconscious. Or at least…something like that," he amended quickly, as if trying to clean up the story and make it appear less harmful.

Cass was mute now, and Honey Lemon was visibly in pain as she glanced down at the ground. The blonde was acutely aware that the last time she had seen the woman was at Tadashi's funeral. And not much had changed since then. The woman still looked tired and stressed. Her hair wasn't as kept as it usually was, and there was a sad kind of light to her eyes when she stared blankly at the group in front of her. She looked like she wanted to say something but she kept holding herself back.

As the silence stretched on, Wasabi cleared his throat a little bit and kept going. "He wasn't making a lot of sense when I first woke him up, and…he just seemed…off. It was really late when I found him, and I wanted to talk to him afterwards to try and figure out what was going on because I was so concerned. But after I managed to find out his phone number, he would never answer me. I tried to call every day since then and it's either just rang out until I get the voicemail or he just declines it." The college student shifted slightly, and he hesitated a second more before adding: "I didn't know how much of this you knew or if you could clear anything up or something. Obviously I'm not trying to get him into any of kind of trouble; that's the last thing I would want to do because he's one of my best friends, yet the fact remains that—"

GoGo cut him off, finishing for the other before he could mess things up even more. "We're just looking for answers," she elaborated.

"If you could give us any," Honey Lemon offered a little meekly where she stood.

But when Aunt Cass spoke, her voice was even smaller than the blonde's, her eyes widened in a hopeless kind of stare as she gazed emptily at the group. It was already clear by the look in her eyes that whatever was coming next wouldn't be good; even Fred, often the dullest of the four, seemed to grasp this as he became unnaturally solemn. And their fears were answered as the woman spoke, her voice just as stricken as the expression written over her face. "…you mean he isn't with you?" she asked, her voice getting louder as she spoke only because of her clearly-mounting fear. When nobody answered her and her stare was only returned with confused gazes, she pressed harder, her voice spiking in its volume and intensity. "You mean Hiro isn't with you?" she repeated, slowly becoming frantic as she drew her hand away from the doorknob quickly. "He didn't go to any of you!?"

"What do you mean?" Honey Lemon was the first to ask, looking frightened at the sudden turn of events.

"I-I came home from his doctor; I was supposed to get him medicine. I made him go to the therapists' office these past two days and I told him that he had to go again! He was fighting me and yelling— he said that he didn't want to do anything that I was making him. But I told him he had no choice— I had no choice! The therapist told me that no matter what happened I had to do all of this to make sure— to make sure that Hiro got better!" Her words were going a mile a minute now, and as everything began to overflow, she wasn't even aware of whether or not she was making any kind of sense. The teenagers were shell-shocked as they stared at her with open mouths. "He's just been so angry and upset ever since Tadashi and no matter what I do I can't seem to make him feel any better!

"I thought that tonight I could try and make it up to him by taking him out to eat once I got home, but when I got back he wasn't at home! I looked everywhere for him but no matter where I looked he didn't seem to be anywhere and now he's gone! I knew that he was upset and I knew that the only time he was really happy was when he would leave to go be with you guys, but I didn't think that he would actually run away! And why didn't he just go back to you all? Ever since Tadashi died, that's all he's done and I just can't believe that—"

"Wait a minute….what?" Fred asked, cutting her of midsentence.

Cass straightened, her face flushed pink by now.

GoGo glanced questioningly at Honey Lemon, but the other girl looked just as concerned. The shortest of the group turned, her forehead creased as her eyes narrowed down slowly. "We…we haven't seen Hiro since the funeral," she said slowly, noticing the abrupt change in the woman's demeanor. Her head tilted a little bit to the side and she seemed a little more than puzzled. "We've been trying to get ahold of him since then; but all he's done is ignore us. That's why we came tonight because we haven't seen him in so long. He hasn't been near us in months."

Silence.

"You said that he's gone?" Honey Lemon asked, eyes big and round.

"You don't have any idea at all where he could be?" GoGo demanded.

"Do you want some help looking for him?" Fred volunteered.

"I could drive around downtown if you want," Wasabi offered.

"Let's call the police," GoGo asserted quickly, already taking out her phone.

Honey Lemon suddenly looked sympathetic, going over and looking as if she were trying to reach out the brunette. "Do you want to sit down for a minute?" she offered with a small frown. "I could make you some tea if you'd like. I know a few simple ones that I could whip up."

But with every interjection, Aunt Cass did not move a single muscle. Hiro….Hiro hadn't been out with them…? They hadn't seen him ever since the funeral…? Then— then where had he been all this time? Where had he gone? What had he been doing? Suddenly she felt sick to her stomach, and so very very stupid that she had let this happen for so long. Why hadn't she asked to see him meet up with them at least once? Why hadn't she raised an eyebrow at the way that he had come home late nearly every single night? Why hadn't she paid more attention to her nephew, to her baby boy? How she have let it get this far?

She didn't react as Honey Lemon started to pull her back into the bakery, out from the cold and back into the heated building. She didn't react when Wasabi turned and rushed back to his car, yelling something about how he could search for him before the boy could get too much farther. And she was still numb when Fred asked her if there was anything that he could do to help out as well.

From the corner of the bakery, having closed the door behind her, GoGo had already pulled out her phone and dialed the police station, launching into detail the second that her call was answered. She rattled things off such as 'missing child' and 'fourteen years of age.' She glanced over Aunt Cass' way briefly before adding in a slightly questioning tone, as if looking for the woman to correct her: '…depressed?' Once the woman did nothing of the sort, only staring forward blankly, GoGo affirmed the statement and moved on. And as Honey Lemon started to mess around in the kitchen, knowing the blueprint of the building and how it worked like the back of her hand since they had been here so often with Tadashi, GoGo covered up the mouthpiece of her cellphone to turn and look over at the older woman. "Aunt Cass," she called, trying to get a reaction out from the shelled woman. "…Aunt Cass, can you remember what Hiro was wearing? Before he left?"

She did not reply. How could she had been so thoughtless? How could she have let her happiness over the mere possibility that Hiro could be getting better take up everything else? She was supposed to be the protector, the mother…how could she have made such an awful mistake? She had already lost Tadashi; was she destined to lose Hiro as well?

"Aunt Cass…Aunt Cass, they need to know what Hiro was wearing when he left. They said it would help find him."

Cass blinked slowly, her movements robotic and stiff as she raised her hands to cradle her head gingerly. And she slowly shook her head.

"I don't know," she whispered brokenly. "…I don't know anymore."

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Hiro's backpack dragged heavily at the boy as he walked, despite the fact that it only weighed a few pounds at the least. The money he had looted burned holes in his pockets, but he kept straight on, the too-big hat tugged down to cover most of his face. He stuck to the shadows of the streets; he had been walking for a long while and so far, every car that passed him never stopped on the boy's account. And why should they in the first place?

The boy had walked until he came across the sound of rousing cheers and voices down from one of the branching alleyways. Checking that the junction in the street was the correct one, the boy turned and ducked down the far wall, the sight of an underground bot fight coming into view as he rounded the corner. Whatever kind of brawl was going on, it seemed to be a truly rousing one by the sound of the crowd crammed inside of the small clearing. Hiro didn't even glance over towards the center though, the child looking everywhere but what seemed to be the center of attention as he scanned the crowd of people instead. His eyes drilled for the familiar hue of red hair and the black star of a tattoo.

Sure enough, after a few minutes of searching the mass, he landed on the sight he was looking for. Redhead was alone this time, waiting against one of the far walls edging the lot. Her arms were crossed over her chest, and she watched the fight with only the faintest signs of interest. Immediately, showing no sign of the hesitance that he once had in respect to the girl, Hiro veered over towards her, pushing and weaving through the people that were planted in his way. Redhead perked as she caught sight of him, leaning out to stand back up to her feet as she watched him silently. Only when he got close did she greet him, and it was the standard shout that Hiro had grown used to, albeit reluctantly. "Hey, Grumpy," she said, eyeing him as he came to a stop. "…You look awful." The added comment, rude in nature, came across as conversational and harmless with the way that she had said it.

"Thanks," Hiro growled, the girl looking surprised at the amount of venom that was still in his voice, leftover residue from the past two days.

But she seemed to shake it off. "So?" she prompted, drawing out her phone and opening up his text. "What do ya need?" It was the routine question, and it was clear by the way that it was proposed that Redhead expected nothing more than schedule from the young boy. After all, they had done little else before. A little self-consciously, the boy turned and shrugged his backpack up so that it was more secure on his shoulder, shifting on the balls of his feet. When he didn't reply for a moment or two, Redhead pressed, offering the ideas for him. "…hm? Do you need liquor?" Still nothing. "…More pills?"

He sighed out through his nose, one hand lingering on the strap of his pack as he shook his head. "No, I don't need any of that," he said, thinking to the stash that he had stuffed away in his bag. He didn't need any of that at this moment, anyway. He shook his head instead, waving down the offers and instead putting out his own, the boy's face hollow, as if it had been carved of all life. "I need a place to stay," he mumbled.

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A/N: I love hearing from you all and as soon as I get enough feedback I will begin working on the next chapter! I hope you enjoyed it! :)


	6. Chapter 6

"So what's this all about, then?" The inevitable question reared its ugly head nearly an hour after he had first expected that it would. But despite the fact that it came later than anticipated, Hiro still felt bitterness wrap a tight vice around his throat. The teenager pretended that he hadn't heard the pry, instead turning and putting far too much effort into looking around the room he now found himself in. It was rather small— enough space for a long couch against the wall, and a television set situated in front of it. There was a small, rounded coffee table nearest to that with a few books stacked on top, though they looked like they had been there untouched for quite some time. There was a narrow-looking hall that branched off of the living area, and it could only lead to other rooms, such as maybe a bedroom or a bathroom. It wasn't the worst apartment that Hiro had ever seen; but it certainly wasn't stellar in any way either.

Redhead had taken him back to this place from the bot fight, surprisingly willing to comply with the odd request that the fourteen-year-old had made. It had been a rather short walk from the alleyway to the building where she rented out a space to live, and the entire time there hadn't been a single question of his motives. Instead, Redhead had rambled on about things like how her purple-haired friend from back at the party had come by the other day. Or that a while ago she had been watching a bot fight that Hiro could have, in her own words, won with one hand tied behind his back. She had asked where he had been these past two days, and she had wanted to know if he wanted something else from her. But through the inquiries he did not answer a single one, dreading instead the next question that had to have been on the tip of her tongue. Yet during the entire walk, she hadn't stopped for even a moment to ask him why exactly he needed to stay with her.

Hiro had even begun to hope that she wouldn't broach the subject at all.

But now he realized he should have been a bit smarter than to assume such a thing.

When the teenager didn't reply to her question, Redhead cleared her throat. She was leaning against the wall over by the hallway, and as Hiro's eyes flickered her way, she quirked an eyebrow. Her arms were crossed over her chest and she proceeded to press even further. "You've never 'needed a place to stay' before," she pointed out. And once again, Hiro looked away, one hand going up to clasp at the strap of his backpack a little self-consciously. The girl tilted her head at the movement, obviously more than curious. "So something had to change. Something made you scurry all the way down here— so what was it?"

The last two days weighed heavily on the boy's mind. The long, pointless hours spent sitting in that suffocating therapist office. The countless fights he'd had with Aunt Cass, and in effect the glares and stuffy silence Hiro had built against her. It all swelled against him, and he was reminded that if Tadashi was here, then this whole thing wouldn't be happening. The teenager shut his eyes tightly, cursing himself mentally. He took a long moment to reply, and when he finally did, he realized that subconsciously, the grip he held on the strap of his pack had increased tenfold. His knuckles were white and shaking slightly; the teenager had to force himself to relax before taking in a small breath. And when he spoke, half of himself was surprised at the sound of his own hollowed, almost indifferent voice. "She kicked me out," he said listlessly, in a small mumble.

Redhead took the words without any suspicion. "Who did; your aunt?" she asked, straightening off the wall with a small trace of surprise.

There was a small pause. Hiro took to staring at the couch as if it were far more important than it really was, observing every small stitch in the fabric and making note of every piece of frayed thread that was there as well. He bit down hard on his lower lip and felt his stomach seize. But he gave a small nod anyway, ignoring the way that each word spoken tasted like bile. "Yeah," he said, his words soft and muted as he shrugged his backpack up so that it was more secure on his shoulder. "She said that she...that she didn't know what else to do with me. And that she couldn't keep doing this anymore." He told himself that he wasn't lying— at least not really. Aunt Cass had said that she didn't know what else to do, and she had said that she was at a loss more than a few times when it came to her young nephew. So it wasn't a complete fabrication. Not all of it was, anyway.

Hiro knew that if he wasn't there, then Aunt Cass wouldn't look like such a wounded animal. And he also knew that if he left he wouldn't have to deal with more appointments, more medicine, more fighting and spitting and resentment. It was better this way; there wasn't even an argument for that conclusion. "I had no other choice but to leave," he rasped; somehow the certainty that he had done the right thing in his mind did not correlate to come through his voice, which remained unchanged. "…But I don't have anywhere else to go." He paused for a second before turning and looking over at Redhead fully for the first time. She still looked expectant— he guessed that she was waiting for the next part, which the boy was just now preparing to give. "I don't have much...but you won't even notice I'm here in the first place. I just need somewhere to stay for a little bit before I decide what to do."

There were options he could most likely take. But right now, tired beyond belief and just as irate, he didn't want to try and sort through the possibilities. All he wanted to do was curl up and away from everything. And as the thought crossed his mind, he reached up, tugging down Tadashi's hat so that the brim was lower over his eyes. Redhead still seemed a bit lost, her mouth slightly ajar as if she was halfway prepared to speak. But as the boy turned to listen to whatever it was, he was suddenly cut short.

In Hiro's pocket, the boy could feel a sudden vibration again his leg, and he stiffened as it dawned over him that he had made a small mistake; he hadn't left his phone at home. And now the device was ringing wildly in his jeans. Though still on silent, in the quiet of the apartment, the rushing, drum-like noise was more than apparent. Redhead's forehead creased at the call as her mouth shut, and Hiro's joints locked together. And, fearing rejection he knew he could not handle, he reached his hand into his pocket only to wrench it back quickly, fistfuls of money gripped in his fingers awkwardly as he extended it forward. "I have money." he said, repeating the few words he had said to her so long ago in order to set up their prior arrangement. Redhead stilled and perked visibly, and experiencing a small burst of hope, Hiro pushed on. "I can give you some for your trouble," he tried, knowing that if he was kicked out of here… "Along with everything else. It's only a few hundred, but…."

Redhead still kept quiet. Hiro's phone had rang itself out once he did not answer the call, but it seemed like as soon as the mobile stopped in its vibrations, it started right back up again. Another call was coming, and Hiro was torn on whether or not to pause for a moment just to see who it was. Was it Aunt Cass? The thought caused the boy to tense, one part of him becoming swamped with pain as the other, stronger half of him, curled back in anger. Trying to look past the conflicting emotions, Hiro forced himself to focus on the girl standing across from him, his breath catching in his throat as he realized that she was replying. And though she seemed a little bit askew over it all, the girl with the star tattoo gave a slow nod.

"…Okay," she reasoned after a long moment of consideration. Hiro jerked forward a little bit, halfway out of relief and halfway out of surprise that he had actually managed to get this far. "I'll let you hang here for a couple of days if you want." Redhead said with a slow nod. "I'm not here during the day though— I'm at work." Normally Hiro, a naturally curious person, would hesitate to either ask what her line of work was, or at least try and figure out a few possibilities himself. But now the sheer relief of being accepted, however reluctantly, swallowed up every other aspect of what was going on, and even the mention of her job did nothing but go right over his head. "But I guess you can hunker down here for that time. It's not like I've got anything against that. I don't have much to offer you, though," she said, her tone spiking in warning, as if she expected the boy to object with this.

But he was far from doing anything of the sort.

Instead he gave an almost eager nod. "I don't need anything," he said, meaning each word that slipped out from his mouth. "I'll be just fine; this is all that I want." And it was true, really. He wouldn't ask for food— the thought of it always caused the boy to feel sick and ill; he hadn't eaten a full meal in what felt like forever. That had been just one notch on the very long list of 'concerns' that Aunt Cass had claimed to have for him. He wouldn't ask for a bed or something comfortable to sleep on— he hadn't slept an easy night since the fire incident. And whatever night he did manage to sleep through came through the aid offered by downed bottles of alcohol or choked-back pills. And he had those already; he had stored all of it into his backpack before leaving. He was just fine. Perfectly okay. So he shook off the warning with little to no concern for himself— why should he have any?

Redhead nodded. She seemed still slightly on the fence, but not enough to draw out more answers from the boy. As it was, he was already vacant and a little more than absent. His eyes kept flickering over the room as if he was trying to commit the arrangement of the furniture to memory. And once he fell silent again, tight-lipped and quiet as he turned towards the window that was on the far right wall, she figured that it was as much of an ending as she was going to get. "Alright," she mused. "I'm going to turn in, then. If your Aunt kicked you out then you can stay here. But only for a little bit. I'm not going to get into trouble or anything just because I decided to help you." Hiro grimaced inwardly, but on the outside he remained just as dismissive. It wouldn't get that far; he knew it. Seeming to take the boy's silence as assurance that nothing was going to go awry, Redhead gave a small humming noise before asking: "So…is the couch okay?"

"The couch is great," Hiro said without even the smallest pause of contemplation. And, since more than the couple words were called for right about now, he added: "Thank you." He felt lighter than he had in what seemed like forever. Here he wouldn't be forced into anything, or pushed into situations that he didn't want to partake in. Here he wouldn't even have to hide away evidence like emptied glass bottles in every nook or cranny that he could find. He felt free and liberated and…happy. Fully happy; and with the way that it was looking, it seemed as if he could finally relish in the emotion without any restraint. This was better than he had first anticipated. A small smile worked over his tired and drawn face, and the boy hardly took note of Redhead as the girl said a few more things before turning down the hall and walking away.

Yet once he came out of his relieved stupor, the boy straightened, looking a little lost as he realized that he was alone now. He glanced over to the hall that branched away, pausing to try and decide whether or not he should try and call the girl back to thank her again. But he waved away the thought a few minutes after it occurred, figuring that it was fine the way it was. He had gotten more than enough money from the register back at home— he could offer to pay for trouble and still have a lot left over. Maybe he could go and purchase a ticket later to go towards— the boy stiffened, his train of thought snapping into an abrupt halt as, for probably the fourth time now, his phone began to ring again. Another call was coming through, and the boy shrugged off his backpack, letting it fall down to the ground with a dull thud.

Hiro twisted around, reaching down into his pocket and slipping out the mobile phone as a small frown crossed over his face. Sure enough the small thing was vibrating wildly in his hand, and as the boy stared down at the number across the screen, his frown only worsened. He should have known that the call would be from her— there were only two possibilities in the first place. Yet despite the fact that this was exactly what he had been anticipating, the series of numbers that registered in his mind caused a bitter kind of tear to go through his heart. He did not move, merely staring down blankly at the Caller ID as it continued to ring. Maybe she would give up after this one.

The call rang itself out again. And once the lit-up screen was swallowed once more in black as it shut off, it in turn plunged the entire room once more into darkness. In the dim light it seemed as if the sound of the fourteen-year-old's heart was amplified, beating against his chest and causing the blood to pound in his ears. Silence stretched on now that the sound of pulsations had died, and as a few minutes dragged by, Hiro was just beginning to hope that she would not try calling for a fifth time.

But he should have known that he would be wrong with that hope. After a long pause, his phone picked up again, and once more the Caller ID matched up perfectly. The teenager blinked, slowly looking up from the too-bright screen and towards the far wall instead. Outside the city was clear, and from down below the boy could see that late-night travelers were still passing by underneath, the glare of car headlights casting themselves through the glass and into the room every so often. And glancing down at the ringing phone clasped in his hand, Hiro casted a quick look back down the hall where Redhead had gone before going over to the window.

Biting down on his lower lip and holding his phone in a tight death grip, Hiro leaned over and unlocked the clasps holding the pane in place. Wriggling his fingers underneath the wood, he grimaced as he pushed upwards, taking a few seconds to force the window open all the way. Immediately, a freezing gust of wind pushed forward and struck the teenager square in the face, taking away his breath with the shock as he gasped in the back of his throat. A shiver lanced down his spin but the boy tried his best to look past the frigid weather, turning instead to look out over the dense city below him. The young boy glanced down at his phone and slowly slid his thumb across the screen. And lifting up the receiver to his ear, he waited.

Despite the late time that was on the clock behind him, Hiro could distinctly hear voices murmuring and speaking in the background on the other line. There had to be more than just one other person in the room wherever the call was taking place, but the small murmurings were swallowed up as a single voice began to travel into the speaker, hitting against the boy's ear and slamming into his gut with the amount of concern and barely-suppressed panic that rang throughout its tone. "Hiro?" It was Aunt Cass— the woman sounded far more than upset, and any other time Hiro would have become wracked with guilt over the way that his guardian's voice sounded so broken and shattered. But all Hiro could do was stare blankly, his eyes dead and unfocused as he watched the cars pass below in streaks of blurred yellow and white.

Even though he did not answer her outright, Aunt Cass moved on anyway. The woman's voice sounded as if she was speaking around a large lump in her throat as her voice came out muted and thick. "Hiro?" She asked again, demanding an answer from her nephew desperately. He could picture her stooped over the counter of the bakery, one hand drawing rapidly through her hair as she bent down low, her eyes closed as she pressed the phone flush against the side of her face. And here he was standing at the window of person's house, someone he didn't even know the real name of, staring out into the recesses of the city with an expression of complete apathy rested over his features.

"Hiro, sweetie, please," Aunt Cass went on, her voice wilting on itself at the lack of audible response. "Please tell me where you are, honey. You don't have to run away from all of this, Hiro; nothing will get easier if you do that. Please just come home; or at least tell me where you are. I can come and pick you up and we can just pretend that none of this ever happened, alright?" The voices that had been mumbling underneath Aunt Cass' voice had died off entirely now, as if whoever was there was now silenced in order to listen to what was going on. "I'll come and get you and everything will be fine. Okay? Oh sweetie, I'm not mad at you— I won't yell at you, I promise. You just have to tell me where you ran off to."

Why? So you can take me back home and force me back to a therapist? So you can take medicine I don't need and shove it down my throat? So I can be reminded day in and day out that things would be so much easier if I had died instead of Tadashi? The boy locked his jaw backwards as the thoughts rushed through his mind, a wave of bitterness rising up to choke at his throat. No— he couldn't go back home. He couldn't go back. Gripping the edge of the windowsill tightly enough to let the wood dig into his palm, the boy leaned forward, gritting his teeth painfully as he ducked his head. Temptation hung over the boy like dead weight to voice the thoughts cramming into his mind. But he knew that if he would even begin to utter a single phrase, he would not be able to stop. He would just get worse and worse, angrier and angrier in his words as he yelled and screamed; and a slip-up like that would cause Redhead to realize that he had been lying to her before. So, biting down hard on his tongue, he kept fixedly silent.

There was a burst of silence from the other end, and Aunt Cass' voice grew even thinner now as she forced herself to go on. "Hiro, I know you're there. Please talk to me. Tell me what's going on." Still, nothing. "…At least say something to let me know that you're okay." she pleaded softly, her words barely a small murmur now at the anguish-filled request. "I'm so worried…you're my little guy, honey, and I'm so scared that you're hurt or cold or…or, I don't know." Her words ended in a faint whimper, and there was a small rustling on the other end, as if she was shaking her head back and forth. "You just need to come home; don't you understand that? If you come home we'll work all of this out, I promise. You can come back and the medicine that I bought for you will help you to see sense. I know that you don't want to take them, and I hope you know that it hurts me so much to make you do something you don't want to, but it'll help you in the long run, Hiro, and that's all I want— is to help you."

_If you really wanted to help me, you would leave me alone._

It was clear that the silence was starting to pain Aunt Cass deeply. "…sweetie?" she asked in barely even a croak as the single word sounded as if it was wrenched out from her throat. "…honey, please." The woman had been reduced to outright begging. "I just want my nephew back." There was a small noise on the other end, one that resembled either a sniff or a stifled sob. "…I can't lose you too, baby. Please don't make me have to go through all of this again. I just want you back home and I just want us to be a family again. I think we can do that…even with only the two of us left. …Don't you…?"

There was silence. Hiro's hands were shaking now, a tremor that spread across his body as he tried to remember how to stand upright. A wave of uncontrollable distress slammed into his gut, a sense of torment digging claws deep into his chest. As Aunt Cass brought up Tadashi, Hiro reached up, pulling down his brother's hat even further as he curled backwards in a sense of agony. He tried to stifle the pressure locked inside of his lungs, and in the effort to hold back himself as much as he could, he bit down hard on his lower lip, pain blossoming through his mouth as he tried to focus on that sensation more than the memory of his brother pressing in from the back of his mind.

There was no family— not without Tadashi. If he went back home there would still be that ragged hole in his heart left behind when his brother had been wrenched away from him. Whenever he was with Aunt Cass he would be painfully reminded that there was somebody missing. He would stay up every night staring over at Tadashi's bed and wishing that his brother was underneath the sheets. He couldn't do this. He couldn't keep pretending like nothing was wrong. Because it was— everything was wrong and nothing could ever get back to normal now that his older brother was gone. His home had turned from comforting to suffocating, and if he stepped one foot back into that place he would collapse and break down entirely.

Before Aunt Cass could speak, before she could try to press in on him even further, Hiro ducked down, fitting his head through the window and leaning out precariously over the street a few stories below. Face burning and eyes pricking from the freezing wind, the headlights passing below became even more blurred as he looked straight down. The grip on his phone tightened, and he slowly brought the device away from his ear, holding fast to the windowsill as he stretched out. And bringing his arm back in a robotic fashion, the teenager acted without thinking.

There was a small murmuring; Aunt Cass was probably speaking again, but her words were muted now that Hiro's mobile was far away from his ear. He didn't want to hear anything more from her— he just wanted her to leave him alone. He wanted everyone to leave him alone. Feeling a tight sob work its way out from his clenched teeth, Hiro forced himself into motion before he could give himself the smallest bit of chance to rethink what he wanted. Launching his arm forward, the boy forced his hand to lose its grip on his phone, throwing the device down as hard as he could possibly manage. Once his other hand was free it went down to grip the windowsill as well, the boy's eyes streaming with tears he hadn't realized he'd been holding back as he watched the small rectangle, still lit up with the Caller ID of his aunt, spin away until it was shattered against the pavement far below.

The sharp crack that sounded once plastic met concrete seemed to reach the boy's ears even from how high he was, and his chest constricted tightly at the wrenching noise. For a few minutes he was frozen, his eyes hollowed out as he remained halfway out of the building, the boy wavering slightly with the effort to keep from tripping forward and completely over the threshold. After a long pause, the boy deflated, one hand straying up slowly as to press it flat against his forehead. A shaking exhale escaped parted lips, and a wave of dismay slowly filled him to the brim. What had he done? …What had he done?

_What you had to._

The thought came with a sense of finality. A sense of finality that brought with it a cold feeling. Ice formed in the young boy's veins, and as he studied the phone that was now in pieces, he expected it to melt. But as he sank back into his hips and reached up to pull the window back down in its rightful spot, he found that it didn't thaw in the slightest. Locking the window and taking a step back to stare out the pane with an apathetic expression, he found that rather than dissolving away to leave him swamped in guilt or horror over what had just conspired, it did the exact opposite.

It only got colder.

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Work was nothing more than a distraction. Now, Wednesday, two days after Hiro's disappearance, it was all that it was faithful for. In dishing out hot beverages, in folding over pastries, and in tying up parcels of take-out, Cass could try and make believe as if everything was fine. As she lost herself in the touch of flour and the smell of layered icing, she tried to pretend that nothing was amiss. But she was painfully reminded of her plight whenever Honey Lemon sidled by, the young girl having offered her hand at running the store after her school let out in the attempt to try and help out the obviously-stricken woman. And she was reminded of the loss when she looked up towards the stairs, the steps empty and the lights turned off.

Though the bakery was always filled to the brim with passing customers, the entire building seemed empty— nothing more than a shell of its former self. Cass Hamada had assumed that her house was barren when Tadashi had left it, and that nothing could be worse than the silence that took place in the older boy's chair at the dinner table. But somehow the hole in the house seemed to grow and triple in size, gaping and painful as her only remaining nephew was stripped away as well. It was like a stab square in the heart; was she really destined to lose both of her little guys?

Every Regular that came up to the counter had the same look over their face, as if they had just witnessed Cass' puppy run away. When they spoke their voices were soft and careful, as if they were tip-toeing along a thin line, struggling to maintain their balance and trying not to tip over in either direction. "Are you holding up okay?" they would ask, with that same pinched look of sympathy over their face. After all, what other sort of emotion could be harbored when you looked at a woman who had lost her nephew a few months ago to a freak accident of a fire…and then just now lost her remaining one after the boy had just…vanished? "It'll be okay." some would try to reassure her. Or others would get right to the point. "Have they found him yet?"

To each and every voice that met her ears, Cass could only manage a deep grimace and a difficult shake of the head. She tried to respond, but she knew that if she even attempted to get out a single syllable, her throat would not cooperate and would only clench her words back down. Thankfully the others that broached these topics, even Mrs. Matsuda, were not offended over the rejection of conversation. They took her silence as answer enough and backed away before they could cause her any more pain. Which the baker was extremely grateful for.

Now, the bakery's activity had dwindled. Twilight was gathering outside, and as the crowd blinked away so did the duties that Aunt Cass had been relying on to sidetrack her wandering mind. Her hands were stilled in their dealing with baked goods, her fingers were halted in their typing on the cash register. The drone of background noise derived from the collection of patrons passing through the eatery came to a stop, and as the silence returned to hang itself heavily over the woman's shoulders, Aunt Cass was shaken out from her mental reveries, blinking rapidly as if she had been roused from a dream.

Honey Lemon was cleaning up after the most recent customers, a dampened rag in the blonde's hand as she scrubbed away grime and leftover crumbs. If she noticed that Aunt Cass was staring at her now, she didn't show any sign of it. The past few days the usually-bubbly girl had been greatly sobered— the whole group of friends had, really. While Honey Lemon spent her free time helping out at the bakery, Gogo spent hers checking in with the police, pushing the organization more and more for answers— a job that Cass was far too weary to uptake. Wasabi and Fred took walks or drives around the city helping to spread the word about Hiro and possibly catch a glimpse of her nephew. But sometimes, coming up with absolutely nothing, they reverted back to taking after Honey to help back at her house instead.

The kids, when they had come by in the past, had been bright and cheery. Even more so when they were with Tadashi; whenever Aunt Cass caught glimpses of the group they always wore beaming grins. And they seemed to routinely be laughing at some funny thing that another had said. Now they were the opposite. They looked tired with the amount of work they were putting in after school hours, and they were grave and quiet— even that goofy-looking one that normally wouldn't let you get a word in edge-wise. Yet as the thought crossed the woman's mind, her stomach clenched, and she wondered dismally if she was just as changed— if, to everyone else that looked at her, she was a ghost of her former self.

Standing here, realizing that dusk was settling over the city, a pang ripped at Cass' heart, and she ducked her head slightly, grimacing as she tapped her knuckles on the counter. It made a dull plinking noise against the surface, and Honey Lemon perked at this, looking surprised at the sudden interruption. The young girl straightened out as she looked over at the elder, hesitantly taking her hands away from the table, as if she was afraid that she had been caught doing something wrong. "You, um…" Aunt Cass winced a little tightly, and tried to focus her attention on her hands rather than the way her voice sounded rough in her dry throat. Hoping that the girl didn't pick up on her wounded tone, she swept on quickly as she closed her eyes. "You don't have to stay here," she said, trying to pass off her words in a breathy laugh, though the effort seemed to fail miserably. When the college student didn't reply, she added softly: "I may not know how hard college can be…but…you don't have to spend all your time here. You must have some kind of homework to work on, so…" She paused, biting down on her lower lip. "…please don't feel like you have some kind of obligation to stay here."

"I don't feel as if I have an obligation," Honey Lemon objected after a beat of silence. "I offered to be here and help you. And it's not like I don't have time to work through my homework when I get back to my house. You shouldn't worry about me— I like helping you. It's fun," she said with a small trace of a smile. Though the expression didn't fit the bags underneath her eyes, and it didn't help the weight that had settled inside of Cass' chest. The student looked back down, apparently finding the argument – if one could call it that – closed as she resumed her cleaning. But a frown was still etched into the woman's face, and she began to open her mouth, struggling to make the girl understand the aching sense of guilt that she felt in light of the way that she was taking up the girl's time. True, she appreciated the help immensely, she didn't know what she would have done without the assistance; but she simply could not bear the fact that she was spreading her issues in a way that put her burdens onto other peoples' shoulders.

However she was cut off before she could even get a single sound out of her mouth. The entrance of the bakery opened with a large swing, and Cass immediately shot up with an intense air at the sudden arrival of Gogo. The raven-haired girl looked a tad frustrated— more so than she normally was. Her face was puckered in a sour manner, but upon crossing the threshold of the doorway and realizing that Cass' eyes had immediately flown to her, the girl seemed to collect herself as she offered a little smile in her direction. "Oh— hi," she said after a small beat of hesitation, glancing over to Honey to see the blonde stooped over a new table that obviously had been left in a right state from the last people who decided to sit there. "Sorry I'm late." She huffed, a touch of her scowl returning as she seemed to hold back a sigh. "It took forever this time."

"N-No." Cass said quickly, shaking herself as quick as she could. "No, you're fine." She fell silent for a few seconds as Gogo made her way further inside. However, upon seeing that there was a newspaper tucked under the girl's arm, and feeling a jittering need to know, she cleared her throat before hedging forward. "Did you, um..." She reached up to tuck a lock of hair behind her ear, acutely aware of how awful it must look compared to the way that it usually did. "Did they find anything else?" Her voice faltered under the weight that the question entailed, and she grimaced on the mentally with the pathetic ring of her tone. But it was far too late for her to go back and fix it, and as nervousness clenched back her jaw, she habitually began to wring her hands together in front of her.

Gogo perked, coming to a stop on the other side of the counter. She paused a second, as if trying to come with a somewhat satisfying answer to the inquiry. But after her lapse she heaved out a small exhale, sighing as disappointment clouded over her features. "No." Cass wilted at the singular word, and Gogo winced a little bit. As if trying to make up for the unsatisfactory response, she looked down, wriggling out the newspaper from under her arm and looking up to hand over the compilation of sheets over to the Aunt. "But they did do this again." Her voice was a little wary, as if she wasn't sure what kind of reaction would be derived. "It's not much," she added quickly. "And I told them that— believe me. But I guess they got tired of me hanging around the station."

"Oh." The singular word was hushed now, fully deflated as its hope was drained away. But the guardian still attempted a genuine smile as she leaned over to accept the offering. She already knew what to expect when she opened up the pages to leaf through them. And there, its own little section resided in a spot similar to the few others ever since the night Aunt Cass' world had begun to turn down into a spiral. In black and white there was slightly grainy photo of Hiro, the small picture of the teenager grinning toothily up at the sorrowful woman. The photo had been the first one that Cass could find on such short notice late Monday night upon demand of the police. She could hardly remember when she had taken it— had it been after the boy had graduated High School? Had it been after the young boy and Tadashi had come from bowling late Saturday night? She found it heart-wrenchingly painful that she could not remember for the life of her.

In fine print below the picture of the smiling teenager was a collection of words that seemed hollow and dead to her.

'Missing! Hiro Hamada. Last seen Monday afternoon on the 22nd day of the 11th month of 2014. Fourteen years of age. Last wearing jeans and a dark-colored sweatshirt. If you see this boy, or if you contain any information on his possible whereabouts, please contact the San Franksokyo central police department.' From there the message melted away into combinations of far too many figures to keep track of, phone numbers and addresses and so much more bleeding into one another in a confusing mess. It looked exactly like the other had. The description varied in a few words and details, but mostly it was a mirrored copy.

Cass' emerald eyes were fixated on the small profile picture, her hands beginning to shake as the papers rustled softly in her grip. Her throat burned and ached as if she had been forced to swallow something vile. And surprisingly, there was only one prominent thought that stuck out among the haze of many others that had been pounding at her mind for what seemed like ages. She didn't notice the small tear that curved its way down her cheek until she heard a small murmur of concern from Honey Lemon, who had edged a little closer. The blonde's eyes were rounded out with worry over the woman, and, feeling a rush of heat go through her that did not help the water in her eyes to stop in its overflowing, Aunt Cass hurriedly reach up to swipe at her face.

She sniffed, pressing her hand tightly over her mouth as she inhaled sharply to try and stifle the emotions bubbling up to the surface. And, a grimaced kind of smile crawling over her face, the woman voiced the repetitive thought, trying to pass off her uneven breathing as laughter, though it came out tinny and false. And pathetic. "They, um…" She sniffed, wiping at her eyes hurriedly as she forced out a lame grin. "They really shouldn't use that picture…you know?" The two teenagers were silent, their faces creased over in concern. Neither of them replied, but Cass didn't really need an audible response in order to keep going.

"Nobody will recognize him that way," she went on, forced to put down the newspaper when she couldn't bear the sight of how much her hands were trembling. The picture smiled back at her, as if was enjoying the pain written across her face. How had it gotten this wrong? How had Hiro gone from hugging her one day to running away for days on end the other? If they never found him….or if something happened to him….she would never be able to forgive herself. To know that she was the one who had created the reason for him to leave home…to be the one that brought this situation forward...

"He looks too happy," she whispered, her words broken and shattered into a million different pieces. The two teenagers standing opposite of her looked pained by now, and they turned to exchange mirrored looks of pinched anguish. It was more than obvious that they didn't know what to do or say in response to such a heart-wrenching set of words; Honey Lemon, the more sensitive of the two of them by far, reached up and rubbed at her face in a fashion that suggested aloofness, but was probably more designed to wipe away tears before they could fall. As if sensing this change in demeanor, Cass cleared her throat, pushing away the newspaper with renewed force now as she took a small step backwards, trying to put as much distance in between her and the sheet as she could. "I'm sorry." The woman's voice failed her slightly as it caved inwards. "I didn't mean…" She shook her head. "Forget I said anything."

There was a long expanse of silence. Neither Gogo nor Honey Lemon seemed to have the courage to brave forward in order to shatter it. The clock ticked away and Cass inevitably took to staring off to the side, having a sense of vacancy to herself now as a bleakness rose up to fill her eyes. Gogo wilted at the sight of the bubbly woman so wrecked, and after allowing herself a small hesitation, the raven-haired girl broached the topic that was probably on everyone's mind. "What are you going to do tomorrow?" she asked softly, realizing that as the question escaped it probably would have been nicer to bar it away instead. Thanksgiving Break had started for them as of today— the holiday was technically less than twelve hours from this very moment in time, and school had been released all the way through this week. College students had been permitted to leave as of 2:45 P.M., and mostly that meant travelling to other places. People from all over would flock to meet up with family— to gather together and gorge on food on the excuse of having things to 'be thankful for.'

Holidays usually brought out the best in people, and yet looking at how ruined Cass appeared to be, Gogo would not be surprised at all if the baker hadn't even realized that tomorrow was.

The thought was confirmed as the brunette straightened, a momentary expression of confusion flitting over her face like a shadow. Honey Lemon perked at the inquiry as well, her eyes flickering in between the pair of them. She was probably drawn between chastising Gogo for the rather blunt question, and paying attention to the answer that Aunt Cass would give. The answer did come after a prolonged beat of silence, and as Aunt Cass' eyes cleared with the realization of the exact date, she seemed a little surprised, as if the number had snuck up on her and frightened her with its suddenness. "…Oh…" Her voice was nothing more than a small mumble, and Gogo had to pay attention in order to make out her words. "….I didn't even realize…."

"Do you want some help?" Honey Lemon volunteered her hand abruptly, and the shorter girl beside her had to hold back a small flash of surprise at the ready offer. However the idea and the implication that it brought along was appealing, and a small smile flitted over her face as Honey wrung her hands in front of her with a touch of nervousness. "I've never really baked a turkey before, but I could make everything else. I've got an amazing recipe for mashed potatoes, and I could totally research a few recipes for—"

"No; no." Aunt Cass was speaking before Honey Lemon could even finish. Her words were adamant though her face was anything but, and as the younger girl broke off, looking a little startled at the premature interruption, her expression softened with a sense of vain gratitude. "Thank you. But— no, I couldn't bring myself to trouble you all during Thanksgiving. You've done enough for me; you enjoy your break." She paused for a second, her smile growing a little bit forced as she added in what was probably meant to be an upbeat tone: "Things probably won't change from the way they are now. Not with tomorrow being…what it is." She gave a small cough. "So you won't— so you won't be missing anything important."

Honey bit down on her lower lip, blatantly unsure. Gogo took up the effort, turning and glancing over at her friend a little briefly before asking: "Are you sure?" Aunt Cass didn't reply, and she tried again. "I mean, we wouldn't want you to be…" 'All alone.' The words were originally meant to be added audibly, but in the face of voicing the syllables, Gogo found that she couldn't get them past the wall of her teeth. It was enough to be going through the first real holiday since Tadashi's death— going through the motions of the festivities would have been painful enough for the guardian with the knowledge that her older nephew was not there to take his spot at the table. But whatever pain would have been inflicted with that idea would be tripled in the face of Hiro's sudden disappearance. Now Aunt Cass would be completely abandoned. The thought was already harrowing enough— to have a holiday hanging over that was like icing on a very unwanted cake.

"I'm sure." Cass' voice was stronger now as she said this with a small nod. She turned and looked down at the newspaper, folding up the stack and tucking it away behind the straw dispenser. Probably because she could not bear to look at the black-and-white face of her nephew beaming up at her. "I don't want you two girls to be worrying over me when you could be enjoying yourselves. Go and have fun— don't let me ruin it all."

Gogo attempted to object. "Miss Hamada; Hiro was our friend. We're worried about him just like you are. You shouldn't think that just because—"

"Please." The one word was all but spat out of from the woman's mouth, causing Gogo to come to a sudden stop in her plea. The raven-haired girl snapped her mouth shut at the interjection, but there was no sign of resentment on her face from the cut. Instead she looked solemn, and as Cass went on, realization dawned that there was no sense in trying to push their point any further. Honey Lemon seemed to grasp this notion as well as the blonde made no move to speak either. Cass reached up to tuck a lock of hair securely behind her ear, though the efforts were less focused on the way she looked and more for the purpose of wanting to do something with her hands as she heaved out a heavy exhale. "I just…I feel so bad." The words were just as quiet as the others had been if not more so. "Having you all here is wonderful and I'm so grateful…but I don't want to take up all of your time. I don't want to take your Thanksgiving." Before either of them could even try to think of something to say in response, she was backtracking. "At the very least, go have fun tomorrow for my sake. I can keep you posted if you like, but please just go on your break. I feel so bad when you're all working hard like this for me."

It was understandable in the very smallest sense of the word. And the request, when you really thought about it, wasn't all that hard to comply to. The worry and concern instilled inside the entire group of friends for Aunt Cass had fostered over the course of these seemingly-never-ending days since Hiro had gone away. And a day away from the bakery, a day of leaving the woman alone with her thoughts and another day in which something could happen to Hiro wherever the young boy had gone to find himself would probably only cause the worry to expand. But if this was what would help Cass, even in this small way, then there wasn't really any question. They were there not only to try to find Hiro and help their friend, but also to offer aid to his guardian as well.

"If that's what you want." Honey Lemon was the first of the two to reply now, though with her response it was clear that they turned out to be on the same page. Aunt Cass didn't reply, and the blonde reluctantly took that as a silent affirmation as she moved on. "We can be back Friday though, or during the weekend. If they haven't found Hiro then, of course." She added this quickly, as if she realized how her words could be taken in the wrong fashion. "Because we do want to help you to find him. …If that's okay with you."

Cass offered them a weak smile and a nod at this. Then, glancing at the clock, she coughed quietly in the back of her throat. "It's getting pretty late." There was a frown on her face as she looked at the time. In the grand scheme of things it wasn't that late at all; it was only about 6:30 in the evening. However upon looking at the ticking hands, Cass couldn't help but wonder with an aching feeling carving itself into her chest where Hiro was and what he was doing. It was getting darker earlier and earlier each night— did he have light where he was? It was getting colder with each passing day— was he warm enough?

She would trade anything in the world just to have that minimal slice of knowledge. To know that her nephew was safe wherever he had gone. Whether it was paranoia or bias, she told herself that the chances were slim. And inevitably, she thought back to the phone call she had made to him— the last one that she had been able to do. Her incessant worrying had spilled out from her mouth like water as soon as she had realized her call had been answered. Now her heart ached over the ordeal. Hiro hadn't even responded to any of her questions or concerns. He hadn't reacted to any of her promises that things could get better. No matter what she said and no matter how she said it the other line was completely silent the entire way through. Until there was a sudden loud slam, and the line had been disconnected.

She had tried calling back. She called the boy again and again— twenty times.

Nothing. It didn't even go through.

…Had she really caused this? Had her actions through the course of Sunday to Monday night really changed things so drastically to turn out this way? The woman locked back her jaw trying to push away the thoughts before they could begin to fester inside of her mind like a disease. Instead she shook herself, going on with her train of thought as she smiled kindly at the girls. "You two had better get heading home. You've done a lot for me already— go enjoy your time off from school." The pair still looked unclear on what they should do, even with this given order. But after a few moments they came to their own conclusions that this would have to be good enough. Honey Lemon weaved around the counter to fetch her bag where she had stored it after coming home from school. Waiting for her, Gogo began to say a few words— probably something along the lines of a goodbye along with a few more offers of help starting up again on Friday.

But Cass paid little attention to what was being said. The baker merely stood at the counter of her store and watched as, with a few waves and calls of goodbye, her two helpers retreated out the main door. She recalled the many times that Tadashi had come in with this band of friends, usually right after school as they nabbed treats and freshly-baked goods to scarf down together. They were so bright and cheery, she remembered. And now, after everything that happened, the teenagers were drawn and quieter now, more solemn and grave whenever they walked through the door. It was a heartbreaking thing to come to terms with, and it was only furthered by the knowledge that her nephew, who had rushed away in such a surprising turn of events, was probably unaware of how much his being gone was affecting them all.

Against herself, she wondered what would be happening right now if Hiro had managed to get over the death of his brother in a similar manner that Cass had. What would be happening at this very moment in time if he had picked himself up from the ground and gone to attend school? Would he have raced home from college just a few hours ago, face flushed bright pink from the cold weather as he slammed down his backpack, rattling off facts about his day and eagerly asking what they were going to do for dinner tomorrow night? It was impossible to try and picture the scene. All she could remember was her nephew limp in the bathtub, convulsing and shivering, completely unresponsive to her frantic shouts.

Cass blinked a few times, coming out of her stupor and realizing that once the two young girls had left, she was alone in her bakery. The tables were wiped off completely and the chairs were empty and pushed in thanks to Honey Lemon's generous hand at cleaning. Looking down and trying to avoid the sight of the newspaper that was still poking out from the dispenser, Cass leaned over instead to open the cash register. It was a fact that she had hidden from the two that had been here today, and one that she had decided not to tell the police either. And now, staring down at the contents inside that had been significantly depleted, Cass felt a sinking feeling drown itself in the pit of her stomach. She wouldn't tell anybody about her missing money, because she knew exactly who had taken it— they were the only possible suspect on the list, really. And once Hiro came back – and he would come back, he had to come back – she wanted no more hard feelings between them. She wanted him to know that if he returned there would be no grudges or pain in between them like before. So no— she did not go to the police to report her stolen funds.

Feeling a pain begin to throb in the center of her head, she reached up to try and rub it away tenderly. "…Oh, Hiro," Cass whispered, her voice small and wavering in a sign of her rapidly-growing weakness. The baker wondered when the burning, prickling sensation in her eyes had become a sort of second nature— had it became so familiar to her once Tadashi had died in the fire? Or had it been derived out of the mess that was taking place now?

"Please come home."

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Loud music blasted overhead, a strong bass causing vibrations to lance up and down the young boy's spine. Though mostly the vibrations came across more as shivers, and as the thought crossed his mind he stifled another, ducking his head down to tuck his nose underneath the cloth of his hoodie. But to his disappointment, the material was thin, and the effort offered little to no warmth at all. So, hissing out a noise of frustration, he straightened and turned to look around a little aimlessly.

He had wandered farther than he normally did tonight. Usually he kept close to Redhead's place; he didn't really need to go anywhere else, really. But, trying to avoid becoming full-out stir-crazy, Hiro had decided that tonight he would venture out to walk the streets. Redhead had left, presumably to go to work. He had no idea where that was or what she did, and he hadn't felt the need to ask. All he knew was that, if he was going off of any kind of recorded history, she wouldn't be back for hours. Which led him to here— standing outside a random restaurant downtown, watching as people flowed in and out of the building and listening to the overly-loud music that was being pumped out of some stereo for the means of entertaining those waiting for a table. Or, in Hiro's case, those who were just looking for somewhere to linger.

Every exhale from the boy came out of his mouth in a puff of fog, rising up to furl into a cloud before disappearing altogether. It was freezing now that the sun had ducked out below the horizon, and Hiro's nose was so red it could probably outshine Rudolph the Red-Nosed Reindeer's. Every so often when people would exit out of the restaurant, a hint of heat from the air conditioning would take the edge off of the cold for the briefest moment, but once the door was swung shut again it just accentuated the fact that it was nearly eighty degrees cooler outside than it was in.

He had told himself that he wouldn't let such a trivial fact like the temperature get to him. So, braced against the freezing winds that would buffet him to the side occasionally, the teenager had taken a seat down against the wall of the brick building, his back flush against the stone as he drew his knees up to his chest. He had taken a seat so that he was a distance away from the crowd of people waiting for a table, but he was close enough to hear the thrumming drone of many conversations going through the mass. To his far left was the entrance of the eatery, and to his much-nearer right was a large trash can that, probably by the end of the night, would be overflowing with uneaten remains of a variety of dishes.

Turning and reaching back, Hiro delved into his pocket, fingers grasping for the smooth rectangle that he had tucked away hurriedly on his way out a short time ago. And with the smooth touch of metal came the feel of a plastic box as well, and with a small touch of relief he brought out a box of cigarettes and a small blue lighter. He had purchased the items via Redhead Tuesday night, more out of curiosity than anything just to see if he could manage another smoke after choking and gagging on the first. However what started out as simple curiosity had undoubtedly grown— out of all that came initially, only two sticks were left once he lifted up the flap.

Reminding himself that he had to offer Redhead more money – without checking he just figured that whatever amount would come without any kind of consequence – he shook out one of the white sticks gingerly before wriggling the box back into his pocket. Striking the lighter and holding the cigarette up to the open flame, the young teenager watched with an air of caution as the end slowly caught fire and began to burn gradually. The smoldering end of the thing, however small and insignificant, gave off a small aura of heat, and Hiro tucked in closer to himself as he ducked down, bringing it up to his lips as he shoved the lighter out of sight again.

While inhaling smoke in large quantities had at first caused him to choke and heave, now it was as simple as….well…breathing. For lack of any better relation. Each inhale in caused his throat and chest to constrict and burn, yet now instead of cringing into the sensation, he merely leaned into it. Each exhale came out easier than the last with more smoke brought into his body, and the longer he sat puffing against the wall the more relaxed he became. And that was all he had needed anyway— he had just needed to relax. Not to mention the fact that the smoke caused the boy to forget about the cold that was biting through the layers of his clothes and causing him to tremble and shiver. Instead he could feel almost warm; or at least he could try and make believe that he was.

Sitting there towards the side of the restaurant, Hiro forced himself to take in even, controlled breaths. The teenager sat quietly as his mind began to unwind and slow down, the only sound that the boy uttered being low sighs once the inhaled smoke was too much to hold in. If the people waiting for their tables a few feet away from him noticed his loitering they didn't show it. But with how small the boy appeared – stick-thin and curled into such tight a ball – he wouldn't be surprised if he had completely slipped under their radar, either. And somehow the thought was comforting— not to be noticed. He was just another shadow, something to be overlooked rather than studied closely or sorted through. And that was exactly how he preferred it all.

He had left home days ago. Fleeing from the bakery and all that it entailed, such as therapist visits, forced medication, and harrowing fights back and forth, he had taken refuge instead in the deepest part of San Franksokyo. The past two – soon to be three – days had been more than what the boy had needed. He was not judged here and he was not stared at as if he had done something shameful. He had been allowed to freely help himself in the only effective way that he knew how without any kind of obstacle. And even though he had to compensate as well for the living space, staying with Redhead made it so much easier to get the things that he needed. Cognitive thought – the kind that he was slowly beginning to despise more and more for all that it brought along with it – had been blurred the past something-odd hours by excessive drinks or pills or something along those lines. Though there was a splitting headache ringing throughout the boy's skull, his mind was paradoxically at more peace than it had been in what felt like ages. And as if he was trying to encourage the sensation, Hiro reached up to take another long pull from the cigarette he held almost expertly in between two fingers.

He started to reach back into his pocket to pull out his phone and check the time. He wasn't sure the exact number but he knew that it was probably getting pretty late. Not to mention that he was slowly freezing over the longer he sat against the stone, which only seemed to pull his body heat out faster. But his hand came up short, and his shoulders drooped as realization dawned over him slowly. The boy blinked, having to concentrate in order to try and figure out where his mobile had gone. His mind, scrambled and scattered from its misuse with the drugs and alcohol, was slow and sluggish as it reached out blindly for some kind of answer. And once he landed on it, Hiro straightened, the smallest hint of a frown touching over his features as he recalled the way that he had thrown his phone out of the window on sheer impulse. Yes— that was right. He'd thrown it out the window. It wouldn't be in his pocket anymore. He wasn't even sure if its remains were still on the pavement below Redhead's apartment anymore. Probably not.

Blinking rapidly and shaking his head as if to clear his mind, Hiro felt a small tug of concern over his mental lapse. However brief, he'd never had one of them before. Thought came to him as easily as music notes would a composer. Or at least….they had before. But as the niggling thought wormed its way worryingly into his head he dismissed it as quick as he could. He was just tired— he hadn't slept in days. And his stomach was caving in on itself by now it was so hungry; the last thing he had eaten was a bagel Monday morning because Aunt Cass had forced him to. So, pulling out the last few inhales from the cigarette he held gently, Hiro began to get up to his feet, his head swooning and spinning at just this slight movement. .

However once he was halfway to his feet, doubled over at the waist, the boy was stopped short. From the trash bin that mostly held food and useless take-out boxes, something else was poking out that seemed oddly out of place. Turning and glancing uncomfortably back at the people gathered outside a few yards away, Hiro walked over and skirted around the thing, keeping his head low as he reached over to try and see what it was. He didn't know why he felt the sudden urge to loot around the trash. Maybe it was the smallest bit of himself, the part of his old self that he had managed to retain and stuff deep down inside, that was coming forward, still curious about everything around him and wanting to solve whatever was on display. Or maybe it was just the opposite— maybe he was just so far gone and rendered so desolate that he had stooped down to the lowest level of trash looter.

Taking pick, maybe the first option was a tiny bit better.

It was a newspaper. Thin sheets of paper and small fine print was enough to show what it was, yet that wasn't the idea of the thing that had suddenly caught the boy's attention. No— it was the picture. It was….his picture.

The boy's joints locked together at this, and his grip tightened quickly to wrinkle the thin pages of the paper. He went rigid, and his eyes slowly rounded out as he stared down at the thing. There were mingling expressions of horror, surprise, confusion, and even anger battling in their depths, however it was all he could do to remain still and stare down numbly. His own face stared back at him— an older picture that had him smiling like some kind of gap-toothed idiot. And below the small picture, words were lined up neatly: Missing! Hiro Hamada. Last seen Monday afternoon on the 22nd day of the 11th month of 2014. Fourteen years of age. Last wearing jeans and a dark-colored sweatshirt. If you see this boy, or if you contain any information on his possible whereabouts…

What was this!? A missing person's report!? No! No— now, that couldn't be right. Hiro looked up from the newspaper, his eyes flashing now with a different kind of emotion as he looked over towards the mass of waiting people, who were now beginning to grow frustrated over the lack of service that they were receiving. And looking from the paper to them, Hiro wondered dismally how many people still read this kind of stuff. How many people had seen this information? How many people had passed it along to their friends or family? Word spreads in a city as densely populated as this; even if only a handful of people paid attention to this kind of stuff there was still opportunity for it to spread. And was he in more places? Was this same stupid picture posted online? In Malls? On the sides of freaking milk cartons? …Had Redhead seen this?

Hurriedly, the boy turned and stuffed the newspaper back where he had found it, this time burying it further down into the trash, as if that would help him in some way. His stomach became knotted and twisted as he shook his head, attempting to clear it as he swallowed this new piece of information. Formulaic, he struggled to figure out what he could do in light of this, but really he could come up with nothing. What else was he supposed to do but retreat back the way that he had come? He hadn't been gone long at all – only about a few hours – but that fact was beside the point. He knew without a doubt now that he had get back. How many other people had read this? He turned and cast his gaze back towards the main street were people had taken to congregating. And now rather than feeling indifferent towards the crowd, he felt instead a strong pull of anxiety.

Having stored the newspaper away so that it was hidden from view fully, Hiro reached back and pulled up the hood of his jacket, ducking his head so that it too was shielded away. He dropped his burnt-out cigarette, stomping it into the ground only briefly before turning on his heel and slouching the way he had come. In his mind he mapped out the route that would take him to Redhead's the quickest. He hadn't come very far in the first place— at the most it would turn out to be maybe a thirty minute walk. But here in downtown, especially once he hit the apartments, the buildings were closely situated together. It all ended up bleeding into one eventually, so that managed to take away a good shred of the distance.

The boy's steps were hurried now, and their speed only increased as more and more apprehension dug into him. He was probably over-thinking things, yet recently paranoia was easy to settle underneath his skin. His heartbeat thudded alongside the throbbing beats of the music still playing over too-loud speakers, and as the boy shouldered his way through the crowd of waiting people, his shoulders were tense and rigid. And as more time passed the panic that was growing inside of him began to gnaw at his nerves, which were already more than shot. Inside of his pockets his hands began to shake, yet he tried to appear as nonchalant as possible on the outside. He was overthinking things, surely? It was just one small ad. People could have skipped over it or just outright ignored it. …Right?

A missing person report. Anger and biting rage burned underneath the boy's skin as the words lingered in the back of his mind. 'How could you be so stupid?' Hiro admonished himself repeatedly, his jaw locked backwards as he tried to focus on which way he was walking. 'You should have thought of something like this happening. Some all-knowing genius— you can't even see something two freaking feet in front of your nose. You idiot. Look at where you got yourself this time. Some plan.'

Hiro's pace had increased tenfold as the thoughts swarmed and crowded his mind. And abruptly, paying no attention at all to his surroundings and focusing solely on the way that would take him back to Redhead's apartment, the teenager jerked around to cross the street. His eyes were trained on his converse rather than the road as he began to walk with enough speed to cause him to trip over his own heels. Showing a brilliant display of thick-headedness, Hiro should have looked up just slightly to try and check the expanse before braving it. Or he should have at least jerked to attention at the sound of screeching brakes. But the young boy was so wrapped up in his own haywire emotions and dark mutterings underneath his breath that he was completely oblivious to whatever else was going on.

That is until he got hit.

A sudden force slammed itself square into the boy, intense pain wrapping around his entire lower body as he was brusquely flung to the side. He hardly had the chance to cry out in pain before his body made contact with the pavement in a shattering slam. Like a ragdoll he was thrown and rendered limp; even after he had been shoved to the ground, he did not move. Still as a statue, his body filled with shock at the unexpected blow, and the boy found that moving came across as impossible. His head was splitting, a stabbing sense of pain in his temple marking the spot that his skull had collided with the ground. A small ringing sound vibrated painfully in his crown, and the boy's forehead creased in pain, the teenager curling into himself as an agonized groan escaped through tightly-clenched teeth.

Twin spots of yellow glared down on him a mere few inches away, and the sound of a car's engine was choked once Hiro skidded against the concrete. He grimaced, trying to turn and push himself up. But at the slightest hint of movement his body screeched in objection, a whimper escaping the boy as agony wrapped a tight vice around every part of him. From the back of his mind he registered the sound of a door slamming shut, accompanied with a series of pattering footsteps that got closer and closer. Upon the realization, the teenager's struggles to stand increased, and he managed to shift himself onto all fours, crouched in a slightly shaking heap as he paused. Breath had been driven out of his body entirely from the collision, and as he crouched, he tried to heave for air that refused to filter into his lungs.

There was a touch against his shoulder, light and cautious. Thankfully his body did not react sharply in response to the pressure— his shoulder came out mostly unscathed. And once the ringing in his ears subsided, he realized that whoever had rushed out of the car was talking to him. "…okay?" It was the voice of a female— a woman that was probably middle-aged. Her voice was filled with worry and concern, along with a little bit of guilt. Well of course there was guilt there— hadn't she just plowed into him with her car? When he didn't reply, too focused on trying to draw in air, she pressed further. "Are you okay? Ohmiggosh, I am so sorry. I just didn't see you— you rushed into the street so quick and I couldn't stop before it was too late! Oh, you look awful. Let me help you, please. Here, let me help you."

There was a pressure on his wrists as the woman grabbed hold, and gradually, helping the young boy along, she started to stand back up along with him. Hiro's legs bent and wavered as weight was applied to them, and his head reeled as he stood upright. He ducked his head down, managing to get a little bit of his wind back as he took in a wheezing inhale that rasped against his throat. He could feel blood seeping through his jeans, and as he put weight on his left ankle, fire wrapped around his leg. Immediately he adjusted to try and keep weight off of the injury, leaning to the side severely as another gasp of pain wrenched its way out of his vocal cords.

"Oh, you poor thing. I'm so sorry, I'm so sorry," the woman blustered, sounding frazzled. Hiro did not look up to meet her eyes, keeping his head down instead and out of view. He tried to take his arms back, but whoever this was must have deemed him unfit to keep his own balance, because their grip was still a tight vice. "You look awful— let me take you to the Hospital. I'll drive you there. Do you have to go to the Hospital? What's your name? Can I call someone for you? Can I call your mother? Your father? I just feel so bad, oh my goodness."

She was fumbling over herself trying to make things right, but as each offer was handed over, and as Hiro's head cleared bit by bit, he realized that he couldn't stay. Despite the fact that it felt like little needles were imbedded into his skin, the boy could only focus on one aspect. And that was, if he looked up to this woman, would he be recognized? Did she read the paper? If he told her his name, would she make the connection? If he went to the Hospital, would the doctors call the closest relative, which would end up being Aunt Cass? With more force than he thought was possible, he wrenched his arms back to himself, swaying wildly on his feet as his hands went down instead to wrap over his stomach, as if he was trying to hold himself together.

"I'm fine." When he spoke, his words were tightly clenched in badly-concealed pain. There was a small murmur of objection from the woman, but he paid no heed as he turned, already starting to walk away as he kept his head down. His injured ankle creaked in severe discomfort as he put weight on it, so he adopted a hobbling sort of gait that came across as sad if not outright pathetic. "I'm fine— don't worry about it," he choked.

To his surprise the woman seemed to try and flag him back down. "No! No, wait!" Hiro hunched his shoulders and continued on, going a little faster which added onto the hurt radiating up and down his figure. "You need to get to the Hospital! I-I'll register you, it's okay! I can even pay for it! Please just— come back!" By now probably all eyes within twenty feet of them had turned to train onto the scene unfolding, and Hiro bit down in panic at the idea. He had to get back to Redhead's apartment. He just had to.

So he ignored the calls of whoever had just crashed into him. And despite the agony wrapped around his ankle he rushed away as quickly as he possibly could. He kept his head down, hiding away from prying eyes he could feel burning holes through his hoodie. His nerves, frayed beyond repair by this point in time, were shot entirely as his pace was slowed, and his hands clenched and fisted in a form of a tremor as he tried to push himself. He struggled to breathe through the needle-like pain inflicted with each step. Every so often, overcome with the sensation, a choking cry would leak out pitifully through his closed mouth; and like a frightened animal, he flinched away from every person that he passed, struggling to keep his face away from any and all eyes possible.

A small part of himself cringed. The little voice in the back of his mind deflated.

'What happened to you?' it whispered.

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A few pills had been all that it took. A few small, rounded capsules choked down and everything stopped. The smoldering pain in his ankle, which had grown into a raging inferno by the time he'd gotten back up to Redhead's place, subsided gradually. The tension in his head as well as his shoulders receded, and the boy's body, however unwillingly, relaxed into a vacancy void of any if not all thought or sensation in general. Hiro had slumped down in the corner, eyes half-lidded and face wiped of expression as he faded in and out of attention. Redhead had still been gone by the time Hiro had limped upstairs; that or she was in her own bedroom asleep. The boy hadn't really cared to find out the answer to that question really— all that mattered was he was still alone by definition.

Now, slouched in a halfway-sitting, halfway-standing-up position, the teenager's expression was fuzzy and glazed over. Like moving a heavy weight, Hiro turned and looked down into his lap. In opening his backpack to fish out the required escape, he had ended up just dumping out its entirety, the advertisement in the newspaper and then the run-in with the car having put him into a panicked frenzy of anger. And now in his lap sat the thing that he had nearly forgotten he had brought along. In fact, especially with the way that the pills were messing with his thought process, he couldn't even remember why he had stuffed it into the pack in the first place. Or why he had kept it out in this moment.

But despite the motivation or reason, the boy was left starting down at the framed picture that had been taken many years ago on the San Franksokyo bridge. He stared at Aunt Cass hugging Tadashi close, the way that his older brother, younger back then, grinned widely from ear to ear as he glanced back towards the older woman. Hiro's grip on the edges of the picture frame clenched tighter as he looked at what seemed to be the perfect family. His thoughts, albeit slurred and disjointed, were bitter and barbed as they filled each crevice of his mind. His eyes were narrowed into slits and his vision was blurred and smeared as water began to crowd its way forward. Throat burning much like his ankle had been before, the fourteen-year-old's stomach felt like it was being squeezed from all different directions.

How was this fair in any sense? His muddled thoughts clashed and collided in a confusing manner in his mind. Tadashi should still be here. That stupid fire. He shouldn't have built those stupid robots. He should have gone with the others after the Showcase, even if it meant rejecting Tadashi's request to talk with him one-on-one. He shouldn't have even entered that stupid Showcase. If he hadn't, Tadashi would be alive— Tadashi would be here. And that was all he wanted…he would give anything and everything just to have Tadashi back…just to have his older brother back…that was all he could ever want…

As his thoughts grew more morose, in contrast his grip got harder and harder. The boy's hands shook with the amount of pressure he was applying to the frame, and as he brought the thing closer to his chest, his grip began to waver and bend. And before too long, in the absent mindset that he adopted once he swallowed back those capsules, there was a sudden series of snaps that sliced through his clouded haze of indifference. The boy stilled for a minute, having to process through the noise a few times before he made the connection, leaning back and looking down slowly.

It had been shattered. Cracks that resembled intricate weavings on a spider web had etched their way into the glass that had kept the photo in place. And as he brought the thing back and away from his chest, there was a series of sharp plinks as the web began to disintegrate, small shards of glass falling out from the frame and hitting the ground with almost metallic thuds. After a few seconds of empty silence, so did the picture as it dropped from his now-slack hands.

Hands shaking, the boy raised them up to press against the sides of his head, his eyes rounded out as he stared at the mess with almost disbelief. The picture….the picture would be ruined. Without the glass covering it…it wouldn't last very long at all. Turning and looking down at the smiling picture that contained the image of his brother, he felt a strong sense of surprising anger kick him square in the gut. Trembling with the emotion, he shook his head groggily, lurching forward unevenly and trying to gather up the mess. He had to fix it…he had to fix it before Redhead saw. But more importantly he had to fix it before the picture could get too damaged or affected. His garbled mind spluttering with the sheer effort, the young child felt frustration build like acid on the back of his tongue as the efforts proved fruitless. There were too many miniscule shards of glass that wouldn't fit no matter how hard he tried. Piecing them together would be the equivalent to trying to sort a needle out of a haystack.

Feeling the slowly-rising bubble of defeat grow bigger and bigger, he waited for it to pop. And as it did, the boy sat back onto the balls of his feet in a kneeling position, his face falling as he felt his heat sink. Biting down on his tongue, the boy curled back his fingers into a gesture of bitter anger. But no sooner had he done that did jolts of stinging pain interrupt his faded thinking process as he realized that he had still been holding the bits of glass in the palms of his hands when he had curled them into fists. Hissing, Hiro immediately jerked back, his eyes wide with shock from the unexpected stabbing. And as he stared down at his palms, he watched with a numb expression as blood welled out in thick gushes from seemingly-nonexistent scratches. Red oozed forward and in no time at all began to leak down from his palms to his wrists, dark stains dying his skin instantly.

He expected to feel a jolt of panic at the sight of so much blood. But the boy was transfixed, hardly reacting to the spectacle at fist. But after a few minutes, the blood having started to stain the already-dark sleeves of his sweatshirt, the boy's breathing hitched. His skin stretched and pulled in a painstaking manner as he readjusted his grip on the slivers of crystal. Red was smeared over the once-transparent sliver, and his hands trembled violently in the face of the gore marking its way down his limb. But still he didn't even make a move to get up and try to stop the flow. Instead he felt a gathering sense of bile bursting forward in the back of his stomach, and he locked back his jaw, the water in his eyes leaking forward as a sense of frustration and rage.

His mind was already hindered thanks to the chemicals induced by the pills he had taken, and now that this new overflow was taking place, cognitive and rational thinking completely disappeared into oblivion. It just wasn't fair. None of it was. Tadashi was gone and now this stupid picture and he just couldn't believe… Without hesitation, because he was without clear mind, he hunched forward, curling down and hiking up the sleeve of his hoodie. His hand clenched again and, seeing the red that already tracked its way down his arm, he pressed the jagged, broken edge down deep into his skin.

He hardly noticed the pain. Not at first. All he could feel was wretched anger and sadness— guilt and horrible horrible agony. He missed Tadashi. He missed Aunt Cass. He missed his old life. And he wanted it back— oh God, he wanted it back so much. But he couldn't. He couldn't because everything was so different now, and as he slashed and tore at his own skin, he tried to picture those feelings and that sorrow leaking out alongside the blood. This went on for what seemed like ages. Each tear and lash seemed to make the seconds stretch even longer. And by the time that his mind managed to scrape itself back together, the boy found that his breaths were shallow and uneven— more of a hyperventilation. His back had been pressed flush against the wall somewhere in the process, and as he struggled to get his breathing controlled from its erratic pattern, he stared down foreign at what he had done.

The glass shard was coated entirely in the rusty color. Up and down his arms were deep gashes that made patterns similar to a ladder or railroad tracks. But these fine lines were nearly swallowed by the gore that had been made in effect, an entire film of dark scarlet spreading quicker than he anticipated over his skin. He had expected a color of pink or at the most red— he did not predict this shade of outright black. For almost a minute he just stared blankly, his mind attempting to snap into motion and function as he just gazed at the carnage. The splinter of glass he had used to achieve this sight tumbled out of his hand to fall with the other smaller pieces, a dark sheep amid the white flock.

From the foggy corner that his mind had been lost in, it slowly began to get reeled in as the shock wore off. Pain of every kind commenced forward, the gashes he had made in his skin throbbing and pulsating with their own heartbeats. He hissed as the prickling rose in volume and intensity, and he slowly began to tremble from head to foot. Abruptly he put his hands down on the ground, pushing himself up a little bit too fast. He was reminded of his injured ankle as it gave way underneath the forced weight, the teenager crying out as he quickly tried to shift back to his better one.

Blood was hot and sticky on his forearms, and as he stood up, he could feel the liquid drip down the length of his limbs. Not knowing what else to do in this situation and unable to think clearly though it himself, he crossed his arms over his stomach, pressing the array of wounds hard into his shirt in the hopes that it might staunch some of the bleeding. And, walking blindly, Hiro limped into the bathroom— one of the only other rooms he knew his way to in this place. He opened the door and stumbled over the threshold, his face creased over deeply with agony and pain. His sleeves had already been rolled up past his elbows, and the teenager immediately flew to the sink, his hands leaving behind dark stains of scarlet on the metal handle as he yanked on the faucet.

Water rushed out of the tap at once, and before Hiro could offer himself any other chance to hesitate, the teenager leaned forward awkwardly to cram his gushing arms underneath the steady stream. Immediately the water fell into the drain a dark pink color, and as the initial film of blood was washed away it revealed just how many cuts had been made. There were too many to count— some were much deeper than others and some were barely there in the first place. The skin around the slashes was injured and mutilated, highlighted even further alongside the dark red that was now streaming away. Since the water had been turned on with no heed paid to the temperature, the freezing cold water began to help stall the pulsating agony from the injuries.

The skin around the jagged rips was dark red with irritation, and Hiro ducked his head, gasping and choking at the pain as the water went full-force into his marred skin. Whether it was because the effects of the pills were wearing off, or whether it was due to the sheer magnitude of hurt he was now being forced to experience, the boy found that his head was slowly becoming clearer. Looking around and being able to connect dots now, the boy reached over to a towel that was hanging on a rack nearest to him, grabbing it up and bringing it down to press against the open wounds. He ducked his head low to his chest and groaned pitifully in the back of his throat, tears tracking down his cheeks as he pressed shakily down on the wounds. The magnitude of agony was increased tenfold at the pressure, but he struggled to breathe through the sensation anyway with shallow gasps.

Blood was heavy on his shirt after he had tried to stop the bleeding on the way to the bathroom— scarlet ruined his dark sweatshirt, and caused a purplish stain to embed deep into the cloth. He had no idea what he would bandage up the splitting skin with; he had no idea whether or not bandages would even work in the first place. He had no clue on how to stave away infection…he didn't even know whether or not Redhead had gauze or anything like that. However those thoughts weren't at the forefront of his mind anyway— they were background noise to the pain that was taking center stage in terms of his focus.

The blood that he was losing – and it was in large amounts – was causing his head to spin and rock, and nausea to settle into him rigidly. He sagged as he kept his arms underneath the spray of the water, finding that it was the only logical thing he could really do at this point. Hiro ducked his head to try and put as much of a stop to its reeling as he could, and he heaved in shallow breath after shallow breath, finding that the stench of the blood that was slowly filling the bathroom was causing his stomach to churn.

…That stupid picture. Hiro's eyes cracked open at this, and he felt a tug in his heart as he stared down emptily. At the stained water and at his ruined arms. And, standing loosely in front of a running sink in an apartment that was not his, deep in the underground part of the city, miles away from his own home, trying to stop the flow of blood from self-inflicted injuries that seemed never-ending as his head spun and his stomach clenched, a thick sob was wrenched out of the young boy's throat. The child ducked his head, shutting his eyes as tightly as he could as he cried openly, his sobs seeming to echo in the empty apartment. His stream of tears matched the overflow of blood to a tee, and he leaned forward so that he could press his forehead to the mirror, rocking slightly as his body began to shake with his cries.

"I'm sorry…" he whimpered, his voice caving and cracking in a million different ways. Just like the spider web glass. "I'm sorry…" He didn't know what he meant. Who he was apologizing to. To Redhead, for doing all of this, asking all of these favors, just to keep pressing for more? To Aunt Cass, for being such a rotten, awful nephew? To Tadashi, for everything he had done that he knew his older brother would look down on him for, and everything that he had failed to do to prevent his death? To himself, for getting this bad and far too lost now to even try and piece himself together? Or maybe it was to all of them at the same time. Regardless of its point though, the apologies tumbled senselessly from his mouth; the fact that he kept up with the mumbles was mostly due to the fact that he was oblivious- more focused on pressing down against the deep tears.

And as he stifled small sounds of distress and discomfort, the front of his hoodie and the length of his sleeves dark with stained blood, the thought came back again. Mingling with the hum of steady water, it was soft and plaintive. A sorrowful derivative from the obscenely gory but mostly pitiful sight that was playing out in the small bathroom.

'…What happened to you?'

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A/N: Thank you so much for your feedback! As always I will wait a little bit to hear more before uploading the next installment! Please tell me what you think! :)


	7. Chapter 7

Things pass. Storms pass. Feelings, over time, fade away— and they pass. People pass you by on the street. Cars pass you by on the road. Opportunities pass, if you do not take hold of them quick enough. And that's just what happened to the days of the week. They passed by quickly, blurring together and blending into the next as smoothly as water. The exact number escaped him. He could not tell anyone the amount of days he had been away from home even if they offered him a reward for such information. He just knew that it had been a long time since he had curled up in his own bed, or even glimpsed the familiar building of the bakery he had grown up in. Instead, to him, it appeared as one long blur. A mashup of scenes that didn't seem to relate, though somehow ended up connecting all the same.

It was a continuous series of forced-down pills. Of choked-back drinks and heaving coughs into his elbow. There was background noise as well; hazy, confusing sounds that nearly went right over the boy's head. Things like loud, drowned-out rumbling of conversation, and the heavy thudding of bass-ridden music. He experienced people laughing around him; he could feel the pressure of hands clapping against his shoulders as if in a sense of comradery he could not seem to bring himself to experience as well. He could not tell where he was going or bother to keep track of the places that he had been. Instead he let himself be steered along, listless and vacant in demeanor.

He did not object when Redhead took him places; he didn't even stop to try and focus on where exactly he was being carted off to. Whether it was someplace outside like down by the pier, or whether it was someplace inside at someone's house, who could only be one of her supposed friends. It never mattered to him. Once events would ensue, it was all the same. He would go oblivious to it all once he fell under the influence, and then it didn't make the slightest bit of difference.

The boy's brain was fried. Scrambled and useless. Or at the very least, it was unwilling to crawl out from the darkness that shrouded it in order to grasp cognitive thought once again. It was much easier to shut down and forget everything. Solace was found in toxic things, and as toxic things gave him the oblivion that he needed, there was no second thought. It was a simple enough routine to follow. Just like functioning through these passing days was as well. Get up, say a few words, pay up front, and then just wait. Simple. Routine. He could shut off his mind and there would be no consequence. So no, he did not know how many days he had been gone. He didn't really care in the first place. He was more focused on things that, now, he found more important. How many pills he could buy. How much alcohol he could drink in the span of an hour. Those types of ordeals that were now on a higher rung of the ladder than anything else.

Which led to now. Despite the fact that the amount of days that had passed since was a mystery and therefore could have the potential to be a very long time, the teenager was still hindered by a severe limp. Without means or resource of any kind of medical care, the boy had been forced to maneuver around the injury as if it wasn't even there in the first place. This led to the pain seated in his bones to get worse and worse— it was layering and multiplying over time into an unbearable kind of sear that, if he was not able to look past, would engulf his entire focus. However, in times like this, he was able to mute the pain in a similar fashion that he could mute everything else.

It had to be past midnight at the very least. The roads were void of any cars whatsoever, and there was a certain deadness that lingered in the air and seemed to muffle any noise that brought itself forward. Exhaustion hung like a lead coat on the boy, dragging him down and making his already-slow feet even less coordinated. His head hung under the sensation, his posture bent as if he was crumbling over some kind of heavy burden. The fourteen-year-old trudged along behind Redhead, trying to stifle his awkward gait as best he could, though he didn't have much luck. His vision was shaking as violently as a leaf in the wind, causing his balance to be more than slightly askew; in effect, his steps came across more as slow and lethargic rather than carefully executed. His head felt separated from his body, and every time that he took in a gulp of air, he felt his stomach turn over, as if to heave upwards. Though the sickening feeling festered under his skin, it never came forward enough to actually make him vomit. Rather it did something that, in his opinion, was the worst thing anything could possibly do.

It lingered.

He and Redhead were walking back from a party. Or…at least it was probably some kind of party. As aforementioned, he was never one to focus on where he had been or what he had been doing. But he had been half-aware of loud conversation and music, more focused instead on the things that he could use to lose himself instead. And now, a product of that frame of mind, Hiro could hardly make sense of what was happening. Though he was experienced in this lapse of the mind, and he was able to maneuver around it, his legs being able to have a mind of their own as he plodded up the stairs step by slow step. But mostly he was just following in the footsteps of wherever Redhead walked. But whether or not this action showed a link of trust between them, or just the sense of the blatant dependence he had for her, he wasn't in his right mind to consider.

Redhead scaled the steps easier than him, though it was probably because she just had a higher tolerance for drinking than he did. Her steps were slightly off-tip as well; the boy wasn't sure whether or not it was just a trick of his ears, but he could have sworn that the girl was singing in a high pitch underneath her breath. The song sounded familiar, as if he should have known the name of it as much as he knew how to ride a bike or do and handstand. But the name escaped him regardless. The girl with the tattoo under her eye was making more progress than he was, and before Hiro had even finished climbing the stairs, she was already throwing open the door that marked the entrance to her apartment. And, still humming that oddly-familiar kind of song, she stepped over the threshold neatly to barge inside.

"That was awesome," the girl drawled, her voice marked with a degree of cheerfulness as she grinned a crooked smile. Hiro looked up slightly as she spoke, but he didn't make a move to reply. He kept silent and tight-lipped, focusing instead on walking in a straight line without keeling over entirely. Gradually he limped into the room and turned, grabbing hold of the door and shutting it with a small click. "Did you see how many girls Sam was making out with? Oh my God, he's so dumb." Her words were a little slurred; they would be hard for anybody to understand as it was, so it pretty much counted Hiro out of comprehending anything entirely. The teenager listened for all it was worth, though he turned and kept walking even as Redhead turned to lean slack against the wall. "You know?" she chuckled, seeming to find that there wasn't a need for an audible reply. "He musta had like twenty girls. How many do you think he took home with him?"

This seemed to actually warrant a response; there was a beat of silence in which Redhead looked intently his way through half-lidded eyes. And in catching the drift, the young teenager blinked, glancing over at her and giving a small shrug. He hadn't really heard what she'd asked in the first place. "Oh…uhm…I don't know…" he mumbled, his voice barely raising above a whisper. The boy hoped it was to suffice, though he figured that the girl probably was probably looking for a better reply— one that would actually stir conversation rather than put it to a stand-still. So he went on after a small pause. "I wasn't really paying attention."

"Yeah you have a tendency to do that," Redhead quipped, raising her eyebrows a little bit. Hiro didn't reply to this one, turning back around instead. The pain in his injured leg had grown nearly unbearable, and a deep grimace crossed over his face as he made for the couch. He leaned down cautiously, reaching the cushions and setting himself down with care, as if he was made out of glass. He picked up his ankle with in a gentle fashion, folding it back so that it was slack on the couch and releasing a tight exhale as he closed his eyes. His very bones seemed to be throbbing, and it wasn't helping his stomach, which only twisted inward further at the sharp pangs. "I can't believe you beat Robbie at arm wrestling," Redhead went on, high, careless giggles puncturing her speech. Hiro stilled a little bit with this, a sense of surprise tugging at the back of his fuzzy mind. He didn't have a clue what Redhead was going on about— he'd beaten someone at arm wrestling? …Was she sure? He didn't have any sort of recollection about anything like that.

Redhead turned, waltzing over and dropping her purse down on the small kitchen's counter with a heavy thud. The girl was probably regretting wearing heels right about now— with how intoxicated she was, the shoes caused her to trip over herself and keel forward every other step. It was like blindfolding someone, spinning them around a couple of times, and then releasing them on a body of frozen water. Balance escaped her; just like it had escaped Hiro when the teenager had been trying to maneuver around. Once again, she began to hum that off-tune song underneath her breath as she walked, and Hiro looked up a little bit as the melody made itself known again. And just like last time, there was that odd tug in the back of his heart. He knew that song…right? His thoughts were as easy to pin down and hold as fish were— as soon as he thought that he had the thing, it escaped through his fingers before he could step back and look at it.

Redhead interrupted the boy's less-than-successful thought process as she looped over from the kitchen, that smile still plastered over her features sloppily as she plopped down on the ground by him. "Whatcha up to?" she piped, looking down and fiddling with her shoes, though there was nothing wrong with them. Hiro perked, opening his eyes which had found themselves sliding shut. He narrowed them a little to try and make his vision correct again, but it still persisted to shake and tremble from side to side. When he took his time before replying, Redhead sat back a little bit, her eyebrows raised and her eyes sparkling with something close to amusement. But eventually he did get out a response, folding his arms so that they were close to his chest as his knees curled nearer as well.

"…Nothing," the young boy mumbled softly, his words coming out in a small sigh if nothing else. He reached up with one hand and brushed it messily through his hair, a habit that he'd had ever since he was a little kid. Or, well…a littl_er_one. "My head just hurts." He fell silent for a brief period of time, staring off a little blankly as his mind wandered inevitably. Though it didn't take long for him to come back to himself, and when he did, his features clouded over, turning more into a downcast frown. "…Hey…" he mumbled a little softly. Redhead straightened, balancing her chin on the palm of her hand as she perked. The older girl seemed to sway a little bit where she sat, though her attention seemed fixated on the younger kid. "…I have a question."

"I have an answer," Redhead quipped, barely wasting a second before replying.

Hiro fell silent for a brief period of time. There was an indention in features, thought leaking back into his dead eyes little by little, as if it was a struggle for him to do so. And when he spoke, his voice took to second to actually wrench itself out from his throat thanks to its low volume. "…Do you think….do you think that bad things happen to good people?" he asked, the age-old question making a sudden appearance as his face clouded over with something akin to pain. Redhead scoffed loudly at this, as if she found amusement in the question that Hiro was being brutally honest in voicing. "Or…do you think everyone deserves what happens to them in some way?" he rasped, not even noticing the girl's laughter. Instead he was staring blankly, eyes distant, as if he was looking at something else. Someplace else. A place filled with darkness and fire and pain that went beyond just a singular aspect. There was a reason for the question; he knew that much. Some deep-rooted feeling seated in the back of his mind had dragged it up for a purpose. But once he voiced the inquiry, it seemed to escape him suddenly, and he was left wondering why he had just spoken.

"Shit, man," Redhead snickered, already shaking her head before Hiro could finish in his languid speaking. "I don't know," she slurred. "I'm too tired to think of that stupid philosophical stuff." Hiro blinked, disappointment shading itself over his expression as he seemed to curl down a little tighter to himself. Redhead pursed her lips as if in contemplation, her features seeming to draw down in thought. But her eyes still had a faraway quality to them— as if she wasn't really focusing on what she was saying now, distracted as her thoughts were diverted to some other place.

"I don't believe in some higher power crap or anything like that," Redhead sighed. "You really wanna know my opinion?" Hiro leaned over a little bit, peering down at the girl from where he was still limp against the couch. Her face had pulled down into a puckered frown. She reached her arm up limply, a finger lashing out to point almost accusingly towards the other. "The world just sucks; that's my opinion," she drawled. "Bad things happen to good people and good things happen to bad people and sometimes nothing happens at all to someone entirely. It's stupid." She turned her head to the side so that her cheek was pressed to the ground, her eyebrows raising as if to say ask: 'You know what I'm saying?' Yes— Hiro did. He understood pretty well taking into consideration his state at the very moment. It just wasn't the answer he had wanted.

"What do you think, Socrates?" Redhead giggled, sticking her tongue out briefly as she pressed this. "It's a pretty stupid question to me. It's not like what we think is gonna matter; it'll happen anyway."

Hiro paused, left in his haphazardly-strewn mind to try and draw up a good enough answer. His throat had a certain degree of tightness to it, like the feeling you get when you know that you're about to let loose a sob. But the sensation had grown to be almost familiar now— so familiar that he barley paid any mind to it. "I don't know…" he rasped after a while. "It was just….something that I wanted to figure out…"

He thought of Tadashi— his brother was the nicest person on the entire planet. He was too nice sometimes. Too good. And he had died. Hiro was the worst person there could possibly be— he had stolen, he had lied, he had cheated, he had been the sole cause of his brother's death, and yet here he was untouched even when there were ads bearing his name on every street corner. And Aunt Cass was in the middle of all this; she had done absolutely nothing yet Hiro figured that the woman was being crushed under all of this. Did that mean there was no line separating things? That, just like everything else now, it was all just one big blur? It seemed like that was all there was now; a never-ending routine that was as pointless and vain as a circle. It was desolate. Everything was. How could it be anything else if things didn't matter like this?

There was another sudden series of giggles from where Redhead was sprawled on the ground. She pushed herself up to reach over and poke Hiro's nose, causing the boy to jerk back into the present, albeit unwillingly. He blinked a few times, pushing up so that he could look down at her, being met with that same tilted smile. "You look so thoughtful," she grinned. "It's adorable." He opened his mouth to reply, suddenly thinking that maybe he could make her understand. If not for her own benefit then for his own. Maybe…if he could get her to understand…he wouldn't feel so oppressively alone.

But Redhead suddenly stood, hoisting herself up from the ground and giving a long yawn. "Welp," she sighed loosely. "I'm gonna go and hit the hay; I'm tired. Goodnight, Grumpy." She gave another yawn after saying this, turning and starting back down towards the other hall. Hiro leaned back in the cushions of the house, his face falling somewhat as whatever kind of hopes that he had managed to conjure up fell flat. Oblivious to this change, Redhead kept on walking. Though as she left, the girl began to pick up the small melody that she had been humming before, and Hiro perked significantly as the tune reached his ears for a second time. And again, he was left with that odd feeling in his chest. He should know that song. He should. But…what was it?

"What is that?" he asked suddenly, his voice a little flat.

She turned, a little surprised. "What?"

"That song you were humming," Hiro mumbled, turning and meeting her eyes with his own brown ones. "It sounds familiar. Like I should know it. But…I can't…" His words ended up trailing off, the boy unable to finish the thought before it escaped him for what felt like the millionth time. He was bordering frustration in regards to the slipping up, but he restrained himself. Having too little to think was much better than having far too much.

Redhead still looked confused. But it seemed to click after a second, because her glazed eyes sparked up with a little bit of life. "Oh, the song?" she echoed, one hand on the wall as she stood in the entryway of the hall. Then, she gave a small shrug. "It's just that really old one," she said dismissively. "Nursery rhyme or something like that. I forget the words to it. 'You are my sunshine, my only sunshine…' something like that." She waved her hand as if she was fanning away a pesky fly. "I don't remember the rest. Just the way it goes."

Hiro fell silent.

She blinked, looking a little awkward at the sudden quiet. Her forehead creased and she shifted from foot to foot a little bit. "…You need anything else?" she prompted when the boy made no move to speak. "Like…water? Or…something?"

"No." Hiro's reply was short and curtailed. He was staring down at the ground, but after a second or two he turned to lay back down, ducking his head down so that he could burrow down into his pillow. "…I'm fine." he rasped. Redhead seemed to deliberate over this, but sleep seemed to outweigh badgering Hiro in terms of priorities. She turned, the boy hearing her let out another yawn before fully retreating into her room. The door shut with a click that seemed to echo throughout the entire apartment, and not for the first time did Hiro feel a cutting, aching sense of loneliness.

He'd known that song from somewhere. It was before he had skipped through grades so early on. He'd been in one of the younger grades— preschool or kindergarten. That had been one of their big things that year. For Mother's Day, all the mothers of the students gathered together as their children threw them a party for 'being such good parents.' Each child was supposed to decorate a cupcake for their mother, hand them a juice box, play games with them as their partner, and present them with a home-made gift— little dumb things like that. To anyone else, it wouldn't matter; but to a three or four year old, it was the entire world.

Hiro's first reaction as a little kid had been to throw a fit that he wouldn't have someone to come to the party. That when all his classmates were having fun, he would have to go back and watch from the sidelines. Especially since the loss of his own parents was such a prominent burden on his shoulders, the ordeal had been multiplied into one of great magnitude. However, Aunt Cass had not missed a single beat. When Hiro had run home and in tears, crying and upset, Cass had just smiled brightly. She had brought him forward, wrapped her arms around his small frame, bent down to plant a kiss atop his head, and smile widely. "Don't you worry about a thing." she'd cooed. "I'll go with you, honey. That'll be fun, right?"

He'd been skeptical at first. "You can't come with me!" he'd objected. "You're not my mom!" He hadn't meant anything by it, of course; he was just stating the facts as they came. But eventually he gave in and walked into school on Mother's Day hand-in-hand with his aunt. The other kids had asked questions of course, though Hiro's teacher had been more than adamant on the fact that she – along with everyone else – should be glad for the woman's company. So talk had died, and the festivities had started before too long.

It was better than Hiro had expected. He decorated a cupcake that ended up to be about five times taller than any other kids', taking up an entire thing of icing and about half the supply of sprinkles. Hiro and Aunt Cass had won the game of Bingo in exactly four turns, and when it came to handing out gifts, while everyone else doled out little popsicle-stick flowers or crudely-made paintings, Hiro was armed with a music box. True that it was a little crude too, and maybe one or two of the notes were a little sharper than they should have been, but Aunt Cass was absolutely thrilled over the little trinket. She still had it on her bedside table, in fact.

And at the end of the day, before the busses started to stream through the parking lot to pick up the kids and take them home, the mothers were told that they had to take a seat. It was comical to watch Aunt Cass balance herself on Hiro's small chair, and she had thrown him a silly look when she caught him giggling. And then, lining up on one wall of the room, the children had begun to sing to all their mothers – or Hiro to his aunt. They'd sang that song. They weren't at all in tune, and probably two or three kids were too busy staring aimlessly or picking their noses to focus on actually singing. But they sang the whole thing nevertheless. "You are my sunshine, my only sunshine. You make me happy when skies are gray. You'll never know dear, how much I love you. Please don't take my sunshine away."

Aunt Cass was crying before they could even finish the song.

When the class had finished, Aunt Cass had leapt up to her feet, rushing over and wrapping Hiro in the tightest hug that he had ever experienced. She nearly choked him, yet she was too busy gushing over how much she loved him to notice that she was crushing the air out of him. She had closed the bakery for the entire day, and after school was let out and after they went over to pick Tadashi up to come along, they had gone out for ice cream and went to watch a movie afterwards. But that was the song that he had sung for her. It was the song that he had sung for Aunt Cass, barely four feet tall as he lined up against the wall of his kindergarten classroom. And now it was the song that was being hummed by someone who he didn't even know the proper name of as he was limp on a couch that wasn't his, far, far from home with his ankle nearly broken.

There were many times similar to that one. Where he, Aunt Cass, and Tadashi had had fun together or spent their time in one another's presence. There were more stories he could linger on than there were grains of sand on a beach. Recently that was all that Hiro had been doing. In between his bouts of unconsciousness or oblivion, he would always reach back and grasp hold of at least something from better times. Like when he had gotten that bike he'd wanted for Christmas, or when Tadashi had taken him down to the park that one summer night. Redhead's humming had dragged forth this one, and now, curling up a little tighter on the shabby couch, he felt a pang in his chest great enough to cause his throat to swell closed.

Aunt Cass hadn't been bad before. She had been one of the kindest people that Hiro had known. Granted that he didn't really know many people— he never really was all that concerned with making friends or anything like that. But still, the fact was relevant. But it was a stark contrast to the person that Hiro had left behind, who spent their time hawking over him, watching his every move and constantly belittling him by telling him that they knew much better than he did. It was like everything he was aware of was slipping away before he could try and hang onto it.

Maybe it didn't matter in the end. Whether or not someone was good or bad. Because in the end, everything changes. Tadashi was the best person Hiro had ever known. He was caring, supportive, nice, protective…and he had been killed in the thick of a fire. And Aunt Cass had started out the same way— but look at how much she had changed from the person who had come with him to school on Mother's Day.

Had he changed too?

He looked down at himself, as if searching for some kind of answer that could offer him solace. He was wearing a new sweatshirt. The other one had been soiled beyond reasonable repair after it had been stained in so much blood. He had given Redhead money, demanding a new one yet not explaining to her where the other had gone, which was right in the nearest trash can. Hesitantly, he looked down and nudged up his right sleeve, grimacing as the action brought with it a sprinkle of burning pain. And sure enough, the injuries that he had gouged into his own skin were still bright red, the skin around it blistering as if he had just made the cuts a moment ago.

Blood crusted along the length of his arm still, and there were splotches of the liquid on the inside of his sleeves. The wounds still looked garish, and the smarter part of himself immediately said that he should have treated them when he had the chance. They could get infected with the way that he was just ignoring them; but as soon as the thought crossed his mind, he pushed it aside as trivial. Instead he just shook his head slightly, rolling the sleeve back down into its correct place and closing his eyes with a feeling similar to disappointment clogging at the back of his throat.

It didn't matter. It didn't matter how people were or how they seemed because it all turned out bad in the long run. And if that was the case, then what was the point? To anything? He already knew the answer as soon as the question came: there wasn't one. There wasn't a point to anything so why should he try anymore? It didn't matter if people were good or bad or even nothing in particular. Because bad things came anyway. And they came in a cycle. They passed and then it happened all over again.

A lot of things pass.

And Hiro was just trying to weather the storm.

(•-•)(•-•)(•-•)(•-•)(•-•)(•-•)(•-•)(•-•)(•-•)(•-•)(•-•)(•-•)(•-•)(•-•)(•-•)(•-•)(•-•)(•-•)(•-•)

There was quietness to today. Or at least there had been at the start. Such a thing wasn't unfounded; the home was usually very quiet nowadays with only one person in the home. But this was different kind of silence. This one was weighted down with a sorrowful purpose— it muffled nearly everything, and what did manage to sneak through its hold was absorbed as unimportant or of small value. Because today marked two weeks that Hiro had been gone. Two weeks of the police returning with empty hands and apologetic looks to her bakery. And two weeks of Aunt Cass walking through the empty halls of a place that once felt like a home, wondering if there was something else she could have done.

But this anniversary of sorts was more than just a reason to become even more depressed than she already was. The news, which had offered to cover the story of the missing boy a few times in minimal dosages, had volunteered for Aunt Cass to speak in a three-minute long broadcast at exactly noon. People had come in the day previously to put forward the opportunity— Aunt Cass had been so out of it that she hadn't even realized that two weeks had dragged by. But the realization had hit her like a ton of bricks, and she realized that if any chance appeared for her to get Hiro's attention, any at all, she should take it before it slipped away. So she had readily agreed. And only now, just a few minutes away from getting on the television did she understand fully what this would entail.

She was standing outside of her Bakery, bundled up against the freezing cold. It had snowed last night and the sidewalk was icy and difficult to balance on; but as she stood with her arms crossed tightly over her chest, all she could think about was whether or not Hiro was cold right now. Was he warm? Was he comfortable? Was he happy? She hoped that he was— the very thought of her nephew suffering wherever he was brought a painful sting to her eyes, which she quickly wiped away before it could make its presence obvious. Instead she turned, glancing over to the left as her eyes landed on the small band of teenagers that were standing off to the side.

Gogo, Wasabi, Fred, and Honey Lemon were lingering on the side of the scene, just as braced against the winter wind as they tried their best to stifle their shivers. Cass had told them repeatedly that they didn't have to stay out here in the cold like this; she had made it very clear that if they so wished, they were more than free to go back home. But, going in accordance to the track record they were already creating, the younger kids had been adamant in their stance from the very beginning. They had come over earlier than normal today and spent the morning with the woman— a detail she was quite thankful for considering how stricken she had been when she woke up. And now they were lingering on the edge of the scene as workers milled around prepping for their broadcast. And now, as she glanced their way, Aunt Cass was met with encouraging smiles— Fred even aimed a thumbs-up her way. She offered her own in return, but she knew that the expression must have been hollow and weak.

"Alright. Cass Hamada?" She jerked at her name and turned, looking over and clashing eyes with the main reporter. He was a middle-aged man dressed to the nines in a crisp suit. He held a paper in front of him that listed details about the boy— information that had been made the public in the attempt to spread word on what he looked like. But the man must have already memorized the list, because he didn't glance down at it once before speaking to the brunette. "My name is Truman Jones," he introduced himself. "You met my associates the other day, but I don't think we've been able to formally meet one another. I've certainly heard much about you, though."

Cass nodded, not really knowing what else she could do.

The man cleared his throat, seeming a little awkward now as his attitude changed slightly. "It's a very terrible kind of situation you're in, Miss Hamada; I send my condolences. And, of course, I hope that things will be able to progress more with the help of this broadcast." He seemed genuine enough in the expression written across his face. Though it wasn't hard to do so— most people that Cass came in contact nowadays shared the sorrowful look. Usually inside of the stare there was pity in its depths as well, but thankfully enough in Truman's there didn't seem to be any. It made accepting the gesture a lot easier on Cass, who offered him yet another hollowed-out grin as she nodded once.

He held her gaze for a few more moments, as if he was hesitating or wanting to say something more. But after a brief pause he seemed to jump over whatever mental hurdle was in his way, clearing his throat and extending the paper so that she could catch a glimpse of it. "I'm sure that you know this list by now," he said dismissively. "They told me to go over it with you, but I was more than sure that something like that was unneeded. So we can just move on from that, right?" She nodded, glancing over towards the small group of friends off to the side. Probably in an effort to pass the time, Fred was attempting to challenge Gogo to a snowball-making contest. The shorter girl look perturbed by this, shooting him down with every repeated plea. But Cass figured that after a few minutes of this, Gogo would give in and scoop up a pile of snow. If only to get him to shut up.

"Right," Truman went on. "So in a minute or two, a red light will start flashing on that camera over there." He gestured over to the man who was in charge of making sure that the angle was correct. Sure enough, the slightly overweight cameraman was lining up the shot, one eye closed as he made sure that both Cass and Truman were in its line of vision. "I'll introduce us and what today is and all of that jazz. I'll ask a few questions, you can say a few words, and it'll all be over. Quick and easy, like a Band-Aid, right?" He was trying to make a joke and so Cass replied with the smallest of smiles, not wanting the man who was helping her in such a way feel ignored. Once she did not bring forth any on her own accord, Truman straightened a little and looked at her with a touch of raised concern. "Any questions?" he invited.

She smiled again. "No," she said quickly, shaking her head. "No, no, I'm okay."

He grinned at this and gave an assured nod. "Alright then," he said, reaching over and shaking her hand in a type of formality. "Let's get this show on the road, then, I guess!" He turned so that they were shoulder-to-shoulder, just close enough for the side of his suit to just barely graze over the side of Cass' coat. He turned an earnest gaze over to the cameraman and raised his eyebrows imploringly. "We all set?" he called out over the wind. A microphone was clenched in his free hand, which would help to make himself as well as Cass heard once they were put on screen. But in the meantime, the blustery cold made everything sound muffled and hard of hearing.

The cameraman held up a pointer finger in the sign that they needed to wait a few more seconds. Truman checked his watch, and Cass shot another worried look over to the kids. Just as she had expected, Gogo's hands were now covered in snow; the girl wore a pinched look of irritation on her features, and she was trying her best to make a perfect sphere of a snowball. Cass was pained by the sight, remembering back a few Christmases ago when Hiro had gotten a snowball maker from under the tree. It wasn't a very fancy device— it resembled a salad tosser of some kind with two arms that each ended in hollow circles. When you pressed the things down together in the snow, you came up with a perfect snowball. Hiro had demanded immediately that he and Tadashi go outside, and when the two returned an hour and a half later, they were both completely soaking wet. Cass had fussed over them and scolded them for their lack of attention, and they had both gotten colds instantly. They had been bedridden for two days. Cass tended to their every need – Hiro's list of 'needs' had been much longer than Tadashi's as usual – and every time that Hiro and Tadashi caught one another's' eyes, they had broken out into a fit of laughter.

And now, standing right where her two boys must have stood, Gogo was currently winning the contest as Fred handled what looked to be an injured blob of ice. Cass felt her wounded heart tear further, and against herself, she wondered bleakly if she would ever have another Christmas with either of her nephews again. She told herself that of course she would— she would find Hiro soon and he would be back in time for the holidays. Yet even if this came out to be true…would it be the same? Would they be able to sit around the fire and laugh and drink hot chocolate and watch Christmas classics like they usually did? Or would it be different? Would the day be filled with empty silence and unspoken thoughts? Instead of handing her nephew hot chocolate, would she have to hand him pills and make him swallow? Her eyes pricked with water and her stomach turned at the very idea of her having to do such a thing.

She didn't want to.

But did she have a choice?

Cass' thoughts were shattered instantly as she jerked into attention. As she had been spacing, staring over almost blankly towards the kids, she had missed the primary start to the broadcast. The small group that made up her audience were staring back at her in a sense of confusion, and the woman was washed over with embarrassment as she ducked away. She turned to face forward again, her hands clenching and unclenching at her sides as she tried to right herself. And sure enough the light on the front of camera had blinked itself into life, and as its lens was trained fixedly onto them, Truman was halfway through his speech. He held the microphone close to his mouth and did not look at Cass once, instead making eye contact with the camera as was probably the requirement. And like a student caught daydreaming that was quickly trying to track down how far class had gotten without them, Cass hoped that she was not signaled out before she could figure out where they were now.

Thankfully Truman was only just now finishing the recap of Hiro's appearance. She could work through that fine. "He is a shorter boy of around five foot, and he has darker hair and brown eyes. Once again, if you see him or even think for the slightest moment that who you see might be the city's missing child, we urge you to contact and notify the police, who have been looking for this boy for exactly two weeks now." He coughed slightly, shifting his weight as if in a physical sign of his new change in topics. "Though their searches so far have had no progress, police are still determined to find the boy before the month's end, and any help would be greatly appreciated. And the hope is mirrored similarly for the guardian of the missing child, Miss Cass Hamada."

She weakened slightly as attention seemed to be turned over to her. Truman twisted at the waist just a little bit so that he was able to alternate the microphone between him and her. And, offering her a look that seemed to be aimed to be slightly encouraging, he turned to speak to her directly. "Miss Hamada, how have these two weeks been for you?" he asked, Cass finding the answer to the question than a little obvious. However she held her tongue, knowing that the more information that could be given, the better off things could be in the long run.

So she answered, though subconsciously the woman's gaze flitted down to aim on the ground below. And as she stared down at the snow, she was once again revisited by the image of Tadashi and Hiro barging back into the bakery, their faces flushed bright pink from the frigid air outside. "It's been…it's been very hard," she murmured, finding her voice adopting a ring to it that was alien to the woman. "I…haven't slept very well to say the least." She meant this to be a joke and offered a small laugh at the end of it, but even she had to admit to herself that it was weak and in slightly bad taste. So she sobered and backtracked a little bit. "I've gotten support from many good friends, and the police have said that they're doing all they can. I'm just…waiting, I guess," her voice deflated a little bit in the last few syllables. She tried to ignore the fact.

Truman hummed softly under his breath, drawing the microphone back to himself and asking yet another question. "And you have no idea where he could possibly be?" he asked. "No…other family members? No friends? No places of significant interest?"

Cass opened her mouth, remembering Hiro's fascination with the college that Tadashi had gone to. But quickly she was reminded of herself, and she snatched the example back before it could burn itself on her tongue. Instead she shook her head in a hopeless manner, downcast and frustrated with her inability to land on something that could possibly help them. "No," she said. "No, didn't really have anywhere in particular to go even when he was here. We've spent countless nights just driving around the town but…" She shook her head. "Everything's come up empty." She paused for a second, but as the smallest bout of silence passed, she remembered in a flash what she had been hoping to do.

Before Truman could take away the microphone, she turned and delved into her right-hand pocket, fishing around and leaning a little bit closer to the device. "Here. I, uhm— I have another picture of him," she said in a rush, withdrawing a small photo and hoping that the camera would be able to zoom in on the frame. It was one of Hiro's school pictures. It was from his senior year in high school, though he was still only thirteen. It was a year's difference, but whatever contrasts there were came across as minimal. She extended her arm and displayed the small wallet-sized picture forward, wishing that she had managed to find a more recent picture that was bigger. She had remembered the picture of her Tadashi and Hiro standing outside together only when it was too late and everyone had been setting up. So she had to make do with this one.

"This is what he looks like," she explained, though the showing was a little bit more for her own benefit and closure than it was for anyone else. Hiro's picture was posted throughout the city for these past couple of weeks— if anyone knew remotely what this was right now, then they would be able to know what the boy looked like. "He— um…he likes gummy bears. And robots. He's very smart for his age, very smart." There was a thickness gathering itself in her throat and it was gradually making getting out words harder and harder. "If you see him, please be friendly to him. And—and please remember to tell him that I'm not angry with him. That if that was why he ran away…then he's very mistaken because I miss him so much." Her voice cracked a little on the last sentence, and she hurried wiped at her face before tears could make their way down her cheeks. Off to the side, the group of Tadashi's old friends looked pained beyond belief as they watched the scene unfold. Honey Lemon even turned away to dab at her own eyes.

Truman hesitated a moment or two, as if waiting for her to go on. But she didn't, only drawing her arm back to herself to look down at the picture of her smiling nephew dismally. The reporter glanced over towards the cameraman, wishing he could ask how much time they had left. They hadn't been allowed very much time in the first place for this— it was meant to be a small broadcast from the start. But the other was too busy adjusting the camera's range after zooming into the picture. He didn't catch the man's questioning look in the slightest. So the man in the suit turned back to look at Cass, reaching over and putting a comforting hand on her shoulder. "Is there anything else you would like to say, Miss Hamada?" he prompted gently.

She was quiet for a moment, and at first Truman wondered whether or not she had heard his question in the first place. But after the pause, to his surprise, the woman gave out a small laugh. It was dry and coarse and void of humor— it sounded tinny in its center. And she raised her hand to once again rub at her eyes before water could overflow. And after a second or two, she shook her head aimlessly, as if she was at a loss. "Please?" she mumbled weakly.

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"You're totally cheating right now; I cannot believe you," Hiro growled, the anger in his voice offset by the humor that lingered in the back of his eyes. His fingers clicked furiously on the buttons of the gaming controller that was in his hands, and his eyes flickered back and forth rapidly across the television in front of him. His character wielded a sword, but every time that he tried to make a swing against the other, the other player always fizzled out of sight, only to reappear and make their own strike. It was frustrating beyond belief, but in a contrast, there was only a sense of laughter to the boy's attitude. And he turned to throw yet another mocking look towards the person sitting beside him on the couch. "And I always looked up to you," he said, his voice laced with comedic betrayal. "Look how much you're letting me down right now."

Tadashi only snorted in reply, rolling his eyes as he doled out yet another blow to Hiro's character. "I can't help that I'm better at this than you," his older brother drawled. "And don't forget that I was doing a paper for school when you asked me to play in the first place. If you're gonna sit here and complain, I can just go back and finish that." It was Hiro's turn to roll his eyes with this, and he leaned over to push Tadashi's shoulder good-naturedly, juggling the controller in his other hand. This brought a smile to Tadashi's face, but after a second it was replaced with a much more thoughtful one. "Hey by the way, did you ever give any more thought to that college I told you about? You'd fit right in, I told you that."

Hiro let out a dramatic sigh. "I told you already that I didn't. This is like the third time you've asked me man, let's talk about something else. Or better yet, just keep quiet as I beat you!" The last words were yelled in triumph, but the boy was badly mistaken as, just as he was about to bring his sword crashing down on his opponent, Tadashi just disappeared for the millionth time. The smaller boy huffed, reaching up and drawing a hand through his hair, messing it up in the process. "I really wish you'd stop doing that," he growled under his breath. "It's not fair."

Tadashi snickered. "Aw, come off it, little brother. This is fun." He grinned widely as he turned to look over at Hiro. "I feel like I haven't played this game with you in forever. I forgot how much fun it was." The words were spoken casually; it wasn't like there was some alternative meaning hidden in the gesture. But surprisingly they caught Hiro off-guard, and he felt an odd kind of sorrow clench tightly at his chest as he straightened. The teenager forgot the game for the moment and continued to stare at Tadashi even when his older brother had turned back to the television screen. And after a moment or two of Hiro just staring at him, the boy abandoned his controller on the couch cushion beside him, shuffling over and leaning out so that his arms could wrap around his brother's midsection.

Tadashi stiffened, surprised as he tore his gaze away from the game. "What are you doing?" he asked, laughing a little bit as he too dropped his own controller, looking down at Hiro as if the boy had just morphed into a fruit. But Hiro didn't reply, only tightening his hold on his big brother and burying his face into his shirt. After a second, still laughing, Tadashi leaned down and returned the embrace, holding close to the boy and resting his chin on top of the other's head. Hiro stayed fixedly in his spot, and Tadashi reached up to pat his younger brother's back gently. "It's okay," he assured the younger in a light tone of voice, Hiro's eyes shutting tightly as he pulled closer. "It's okay. It's fine."

The boy's eyes were stinging and he could feel tears mark their way down his face. His shoulders began to shake with repressed sobs, and though Hiro tried to ward off the emotions it was like a rising tide that he could not hold back. It was swallowing him up and try as he might to swim against the current, he was only dragged further down. Tadashi continued to pat his back every so often, but despite the condolence, Hiro could feel himself get hotter and hotter under the sensation. And as it only got worse, the small stinging turning into a burning sensation, Hiro stiffened in shock, his eyes snapping open as he looked up at Tadashi.

His brother was on fire. Not literal fire— there were no orange flames snapping or flaring up. But the smell of smoke hung thick in the air, and as Hiro stared up in horror, he watched as his brother's skin began to blister and redden, burning away in a gory, terror-inflicting sight. Hiro immediately gasped, jerking backwards and trying to wrench himself away as the heat started to spread itself over to him. But he found that he couldn't move— his arms were locked in place where they hugged around Tadashi's waist, and no matter how hard he tugged, they refused to separate. The fourteen-year-old was paralyzed as he stared up this brother, and he began to panic as a scream wrenched itself out from his throat.

But Tadashi was still patting his back slowly. His brother's skin was melting off of his face like it was nothing more than ice cream on a hot day, and Hiro found that the longer it went on, the more he could not stop himself from screaming. His throat was raw, yet still, despite his struggles, he was unable to let go of Tadashi. His older brother smiled, but with all the gore and mess, it did nothing but cause Hiro to scream louder. "Shhh…" Tadashi whispered, his voice gentle but his eyes wide and staring. Hiro shrieked again hyperventilating as he squirmed and thrashed. "It's okay," Tadashi soothed lovingly. "It's fine."

"Tadashi!" Hiro screeched, feeling his own skin started to burn and singe. He couldn't let go!

But his brother only beamed, the smile stretched across his face becoming gruesome and horrific as bones started to protrude out of his burning flesh. His teeth were more prominent now, and there was a sickening air to the grin as his lips were charred away. Hiro screamed, the boy wanting nothing more than to look away, but found himself unable to. He just watched, trembling and shaking as his brother was reduced to a gory skeleton, his eyes making straight contact with Hiro as the boy was subjected to burning as well; the only thing Hiro was left capable of doing was screaming and crying.

And all the while, there was that constant beat of a pat on his back. The constant, soothing shush in the background of the scene. And Tadashi's voice, light and gentle against Hiro's ears.

"Shhh….

"It's okay.

"It's fine.

"Everything is okay.

"Everything's going to be just fine…"

Hiro woke up with a shuddering jerk, a gasp stopping halfway through his throat, as if stopped there by some kind of force. For a terror-filled minute or two, he was stuck halfway between reality and something else, the young teenager's eyes wide in terror as he simply stared. His body was wracked with shivers and trembles, and despite the heat of fear that was racing through him he was chilled to the bone. But after his mind finished seizing and spacing, the teenager realized that he was sitting down at a table. He had leaned forward so that his cheek was flush on its surface, and as he pulled away groggily he could feel the large splotch of red that had no doubt marked its way down his face.

He was somewhere he did not know, but it was obvious what the setting was. People surrounded him on all sides, and conversation rose in a roar almost as loud as the music that was playing from some corner of the room. It looked like he was in a basement, and going by the empty plastic cup that was in front of him, he must have drunken at least something to put him out like this. Recently he had been avoiding sleep at all costs— he was pretty sure that he had gone a couple of days without it. Which probably warranted his falling asleep here, especially if he had had something to drink.

But still, he boy could not stop shaking. He reached up and pressed the heels of his hands down hard into his eyes, the smallest of whimpers escaping his closed mouth as the image of his burning brother flashed itself back through his mind. The nightmare was so real, so vivid— was that just because he hadn't fallen asleep for a long time? Regardless of its reason, each scene and detail had been burned into his mind. It was like a cobweb that he couldn't shake free.

His mind still foggy with sleep, the teenager pushed back from the table, getting up to his feet abruptly as his head spun briefly. He reached up and pressed his hand against his forehead, the young boy trying to forget the detail as he turned instead to look around. Where was Redhead? He felt sick to his stomach, and the tremors going through him refused to stop. The music was too loud and people seemed to press in on all sides. He just wanted to leave. He couldn't handle all of this— he was overwhelmed. Nausea shaking itself through him, the boy began to plow and weave though the other people clustered in the basement.

He had to find Redhead.

He tried his best to keep his head clear and focused, but as he walked, the image of Tadashi kept reoccurring in the forefront of his mind. His brother's chilling voice, the way he had looked as his skin as burned off bit by bit. The boy's throat swelled shut, and he quickened his pace, struggling to find where Redhead had gone as he felt a shattering sense of abandonment. But ten minutes passed and no matter how hard he looked for the girl, he could not manage to find her in the thick of things. Frustration curled itself forward, and after a while, Hiro just came to a standstill in the middle of it all. 'Shhh…it's okay.' Hiro's hands shook as his mind was overrun with panic, and the young boy tried to shake his head back and forth in the attempt to clear it. But it didn't work. 'It's fine.' His lower lip trembled, and he raised his hands up to press against his eyes, feeling the harsh sting of tears on his palms as his shoulders began to shake. 'Everything is okay.' A tight sob managed to escape between his clenched teeth. 'Everything's going to be just fine.'

"Aw, what's wrong?" A drawling voice suddenly made its way over to him, and Hiro stiffened, immediately whirling around to face who had spoken. His face was flushed red and his tears were bright against the dim light of the room. Redhead quirked an eyebrow where she stood, looking concerned as she staggered forward. By the way she walked, it was clear that she was more than a little drunk, and Hiro took a small step backwards as he drew closer to himself, a small sniffle coming from the boy as he reached up to wipe at his eyes. "What's wrong, buddy?" Redhead asked, her words so slurred together that Hiro had to concentrate in order to understand them. "Have you not had enough yet?" She extend her arm, offering her half-empty cup of alcohol to him as she stared his way imploringly. "Ya what somma mine?"

Hiro did not have a chance to reply before Redhead dissolved into a fit of giggles, still advancing sloppily towards the young boy. He kept backing up in turn, trying his best to right the distance between them. But if she noticed the detail she was not deterred by it. "You know what we should do?" she demanded, sounding cheery and excited as she got even closer. "Let's go get ice cream after this. Yeah, we should go and— go and get some ice cream after this. It'll be so much funnnnnnn." She drew out the last word for two more seconds than was really needed, and Hiro felt a small twinge of nervousness as he drew back for millionth time.

Hurriedly, he wiped at his eyes again. "N-No, that's…I just want to leave," he said a little uncomfortably.

She scoffed loudly, rolling her eyes. "Sure, if you wanna be boring," she stressed. "Here— how about you pay me for tonight and then we can use that money to go get some like sundaes or something, hm? That sounds like…like a really good plan to me." Hiro found that by now his back was pushed up against the wall. His head made a dull thud sound as it collided with the plaster. He grimaced, reaching up to rub at the back of his skull with a pinched look. Redhead didn't seem to catch onto what the boy was experiencing though. She just got closer, her expression as fuzzy as her speech was. "You never paid me for tonight," she elaborated. "You owe me."

"I know I do," Hiro answered, his forehead creased now as he tried to press himself even further back. But he couldn't really do the wish justice, and his stomach twisted into a tight knot as he found himself cornered. "But my backpack is at your house. Can we please just go to your house? Please? I don't want to stay here anymore." He felt like a child with the way he was whining, but he couldn't help himself. His throat was still thick from his nightmare, and his hands couldn't seem to stop shaking. The picture of Tadashi flashed back into his frazzled mind, and he ducked his head down, closing his eyes tightly as he felt another fresh wave of tears press up against them. "I just want to leave," he murmured out softly, his voice wavering. "Please? I can't stay here. It's too— it's too crowded. Just— please."

"Don't be so boring," Redhead sighed. There was barely even two inches of space in between them now, and Hiro peeked up, trying to see whether or not he could sidle around her. "C'mon; we gotta do something fun." She was so drunk. She was beyond drunk. Hiro felt his heart pick up in a staccato of panic, and his fists curled back to dig his nails down deep into his skin. "I have an idea of something fun we can do," she said lazily, reaching over and lacing her fingers around Hiro's wrists as she leaned closer.

Immediately the boy's head jerked to the side. "Let go," he said hollowly. "I just want to go home. We can get ice cream in the morning or something. Get off of me." The water building up in his eyes began to overflow, and he shrunk backwards slightly. It was frightening how desensitized he had become. How, at first, the boy could not bring himself to care as he was advanced on. But after a moment or two, the small part of him that was retained – the part of him that grimaced whenever he purchased alcohol, and the part of him that kept him up at night as it berated him for his actions – had snapped into life. At first fear had leaked in bit by bit; but it slowly grew up in influence, and went it did panic and fear sank their claws deep into the boy's skin.

"Get off me please," he repeated, his voice shaking just slightly as he shuffled backwards, his heels now digging into the wall.

Her only reply was a slurred: "You're adorable."

His face flushed deep red, and the young child's body became almost like a maraca as it broke out into even more tremors. "Please," he tried, his voice breathless as he fought against a rising tide of panic. "I just want to leave. I—" He couldn't finish. His words were cut off before he could finish his pleading sentence. Because before he could get out anything else, a pressure was applied that forced him mute. Redhead had closed the gap between them, her lips mashing into his own forcibly. A strangled noise escaped the boy, but it was inaudible and lost entirely. He was pressed flush against the wall behind him, and Redhead only pushed him back more, making the option of moving nonexistent. But as fear and disgust created more and more layers on the teenager, he tried to trash back against the girl, attempting to rip his arms away from her, but he was much weaker than he thought he was. He hadn't eaten in days, and his lack of sleep had drained away most of his energy. That, coupled with the fear that was scrambling his brain, was not helping him in any way whatsoever.

But Redhead was oblivious to the smaller boy's struggles. She leaned forward so that there was absolutely no space in between them, Hiro's frame forced to still in its shaking as she pushed down against him. Hiro tried to jerk his head to the side away from her reach, but her only response was to hold tighter to the boy's arms, her tongue forcing its way into his mouth as one of her legs pushed forward in between his. He couldn't breathe, he couldn't move, he couldn't do anything at all, and the throbbing sense of fear building inside of him suddenly overtook every inch of the boy and swallowed him whole.

He jerked forward, ducking down and twisting in a sharp circle so that Redhead was forced to let go of him. His face was overcome with fright, and his arms were pulled close to him as he whirled back to face the girl. However despite his deer-in-headlights expression, Redhead only sat back into her heels, eyeing him with a pursed look of almost impatience. "Aw, c'mon," she slurred in the faintest of sighs. "Don't lookit me like that. It's not like it's a big deal or anything, you know?" But once Hiro's expression did not change at all, the boy only taking a small step backwards, she blew out something that sounded akin to a raspberry. "You are so cute," she laughed. "But you know what? You always make it seem like you're just so innocent. But you're not!" She pointed a lazy finger over to his chest. "You need to decide which one you are."

"I'm—that's not—it's different when—I—" Hiro was stricken, shaking from head to toe. He could feel the burn of eyes turn over to look at him, and suddenly he could almost feel the walls caving down to press in on him. He couldn't breathe. He struggled for air, feeling like a fish out of water as he grasped for words that wouldn't come to him. He reached up with trembling hands to press them against his forehead, closing his eyes tightly as he ducked his head down low. 'It's okay.' He shook his head quickly, his shoulders beginning to heave. 'It's fine.' "I have to go," he managed to spit out after a pressurized moment of silence.

Redhead rolled her eyes. Was she even able to grasp the concept of the situation? "You don't have to be like that. It was just a simple thing. Geez; you don't have to make it so bad. Look, I'm sorry, okay? Whatever. If you're going to be like that then it's your problem, not mine. I was just tryinna have a little bit of fun. Let's just go back if that's what you wanna do. It doesn't matter, just whatever. You know? Let's just—"

He was already shaking his head before the girl could finish. He felt sick to his stomach— his head was spinning and he could taste bile rising up in the back of his throat. "No," he rasped, his voice heighted and pained as he pressed his hands roughly against his teary eyes. "No, I can't. I—" Redhead's forehead creased, her face overcome with fuzzy confusion as she tilted her head to the side. 'Everything's okay.' He was like a child, getting scared over nightmares and running away. But his chest was constricting in panic and he found a sudden need to break off into a sprint. He shook his head rapidly a second time and started forward on shaking legs, looking up and trying to remember how he had gotten into here in the first place. Where was the exit? "I have to leave," he rasped, his voice distant and his eyes hollowed out.

"Wait a second!" Redhead yelped, turning and reaching out to grab his wrist, pulling him back. The boy went absolutely rigid at the contact, his eyes widening to be ten times their normal size as his heart stalled with fear. But, again, Redhead was oblivious. "Where are ya going? You can't just run off like that! Where are—?"

By now people around them were openly staring. Under the weight of their stares, Hiro buckled just a little bit more, and the need to duck out seemed to multiply ten times over. He jerked his hand free and broke into a run, staggering in agonized pain on his ankle that he had injured days prior. It ached with each step and slowed him down obscenely, but the teenager was adamant as he made for the stairs. People gathered broke off in their conversations to turn and look at him oddly as Redhead tried to follow him, calling out for the younger boy in a fit of confusion. Hiro made a beeline for the steps, but thankfully people naturally milled into the wake, getting in front of Redhead and getting in between her and the younger boy.

Gripping the railing of the banister tightly, Hiro leaned on it for support, gripping it with a tight vice as he staggered up towards the upper level. He heard Redhead's voice waft its way up to him every so often, but he tried to ignore it. The teenager found himself in yet another throng of people who were standing around and talking. The kitchen and the living room was packed to the brim with people, and conversation followed him wherever he went. The boy turned corner after corner, searching desperately for a door that led outside. He tried each one he passed, landing himself in a bedroom, then in a bathroom, then in a closet space. Frustration was boiling underneath his skin, and he grew more and more panicked the longer that his search went on. In the spur of the moment, all he wanted to do was get away from here and get away from all these people and get away from Redhead. And so far, if he didn't hurry, he wouldn't get to do any of those things.

But thankfully he found the right door before Redhead found her way over to him. Bursting out of the unfamiliar house and into the freezing weather outside, Hiro literally threw himself over the threshold and scrambled down the steps. Snow was inches deep on the sidewalk that lay outside the home, but Hiro did not even hesitate before stumbling down the walkway. It reached a little bit up past his ankles, and in the back of his mind he hoped that it would help to numb his injury and put it out of his mind. But in the long run, Hiro could only grasp the concept of running away, the boy's thin sweatshirt doing little to nothing to help shield him from the weather as he hunkered down with a sickened expression.

He was only able to walk for about five minutes before his legs suddenly refused to budge. He stopped short and turned, looking from one end of the sidewalk to another as he halted. He was shivering from the cold, and his jaw was moving in a compulsive way as his teeth chattered. Standing alone, hearing the noise of the city in the background behind him, the intelligent part of himself once again made its brief appearance. Where was he going to go from here? He didn't have anywhere to go. And the thought of going back…

His stomach dropped considerably. The boy gave up, dropping down with a thud as he drew his legs up close to his chest. He couldn't go back. No— the mere thought of going back was enough to make his skin crawl. He closed his eyes tightly, gritting his teeth and reaching up to roughly rub at his mouth with a deep grimace. A tight crying sound worked its way up from his throat, and the boy's shoulders shook and heaved as he buried his head down into his arms. What had happened? He had thought that Redhead was one of the only people left to him. He had lost Tadashi…Aunt Cass…he didn't even know Redhead's name, but she had given him a place to stay…she had complied to each and every thing that Hiro asked. He thought that, if not a kind of friendship, they had an understanding. He had sunken so low that a relationship such as that was something to be clung to.

And now, just like everything else, it turned out to be false. He hadn't wanted this…he hadn't wanted this at all. All he wanted was to forget…

'Everything is going to be just fine.'

He didn't know what to think anymore. He didn't know who to look to. And where was he supposed to go?

The intolerant side of himself lashed back at him with anger. 'You really screwed this one up. I can't believe you. What were you thinking?' He curled closer to himself, closing his eyes and biting down tightly on his lower lip. He tried to stave off the thoughts but it was impossible. It was just as impossible as forgetting the dream that still burned itself in the back of his eyelids. Shivering and shaking, Hiro was subjected to the onslaught of mental ridicule. 'You just screwed everything up. Now how will you get anything done? You're pathetic. Running out of there like the whole place was on fire! You're being so stupid! You're acting like a child!'

…

Not once, on the side of the walkway, did it occur to him that that was exactly what he was.

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A/N: I apologize for the lack of updates, but I did say that I would hesitate before working on or updating a chapter just for the sake of waiting for reviews or feedback. I really would like to hear what you all think about the chapter before I go on. I take the considerations of my readers with no small tip of the hat, and those that I get mean very much to me.

I also apologize if this chapter isn't as stellar. Through a long story (a long story that actually inspired this one) I had to spend this weekend on a plane and hiking through snowy mountains. So this chapter was a little rushed unfortunately in light of that situation. So I hope that you'll be able to understand.

So! PLEASE tell me what you think! And I can get back to updating for this story hopefully more regularly :)


	8. Chapter 8

It was late. The gas station was rendered empty, the aisles of food and candy absolutely vacant. Any sane person around this time of night would be fast asleep. The thought crossed the employee's mind and she heaved a gusty sigh, her shoulders drooping as she leaned idly over the counter. She raised her hand to rub at her eyes with a weary expression, grimacing slightly as she glanced towards the clock. Geez, it was super late. And her shift wasn't even halfway over yet. Her boss was such a drag— why on earth was the station even open this late? It wasn't like anybody was ever here around this time— who craves a gas station hotdog at two in the morning?

"Hey, did you see last night's episode of 'The Bachelor?'" the girl asked in a small sigh, perking as she looked over towards her coworker, who was busy fiddling with the front display. As he was called, her friend straightened, glancing over his shoulder to throw her an incredulous look. He raised one eyebrow as a skeptical expression settled over his features, however the girl didn't seem deterred by the reaction to her inquiry. Rather she leaned forward again in an intent fashion, her eyebrows arching as she fixed the boy with an expectant gaze.

"Excuse me? Did you seriously just ask me if I watched 'The Bachelor?'" the other questioned. "I think you might be forgetting who you're talking to. That show's for women who have nothing else to do with their Monday nights."

A beat of silence passed, and the girl's eyebrows wriggled excitedly. She was hardly able to keep the humor from her voice when she prompted again: "…So what did you think of it?"

Her friend scowled, rolling his eyes before turning back to his work. He didn't answer her at first, and the girl deflated, disappointment filling her as she rolled her eyes and began to turn back to the register. Maybe she could switch the nickels and dimes and see if anyone noticed in another shift. But before she could do anything of the sort, he answered with a barbed tone. "…He shouldn't have sent Kaitlyn home. I was rooting for her. I don't like Becca at all; I have no idea how she even made it to the final two in the first place."

At this, the girl gave out a loud, smug laugh. She shook her head in disapproval, but there was no mistaking the humorous glint in the back of her expression. As if sensing this, the boy let out a scoff, backtracking and trying to collect himself as best he could. "I mean— Kaitlyn was like one of the best girls that were on that show! The rest of them are so boring! Now I've got nobody to root for the entire rest of the show! I might not even watch the rest of it. I'll boycott it. The network will have to respond. I'll get a bunch of people to rebel against it with me."

The girl waved her hand dismissively. "No— you'll probably still watch it." She stifled a yawn, starting to turn back to her station. "I think Becca's nice, man, you just gotta wait and see the final episode. I mean at least she's not selling out to Chris first thing like everyone else; she's taking it slow. And I think that's really empowering, especially with everything that goes on in that show." She waited for the other to reply, and when he didn't, she shrugged thoughtfully. "I mean I can guess why you would like Whitney more than Becca, because Whitney is blonde and pretty and smart and all that stuff. But I think that's overrated a little bit, don't you? But I do have to admit that Kaitlyn was my absolute favorite on the show since day one. I liked…that way…that….she…."

She turned quizzically, her forehead creased at the lack of response. And in seeing that her friend's attention was nowhere near on her, the girl flared. "Mark!" she snapped. "I am talking 'The Bachelor' with you! You're not even paying attention to me!" Still, he didn't turn. She blinked rapidly and turned, walking around the counter and craning her neck to try and see what he was doing. But her friend was just standing by the front window staring outside. "…Mark?" the girl asked slowly, her eyebrows pulling together. "…You okay…?" He didn't reply, only walking forward to press his hands up to the glass, peering out the window and down to the sidewalk nearer to the entrance. The girl hesitated, confused as she stopped a little ways behind him. "Mark, what're you doing?"

"Akari, do you see that out there?"

She stiffened. With the tone of his voice, she could just picture herself in some kind of scary movie. "See what?" she asked tensely. "You better not be trying to scare me like last time, Mark; because I swear to God, if that's what you're doing I will slam your face down on the hotdog roller."

Mark turned and threw her an irritated glare. "Akari, this is serious," he hissed. "I think there's something out there. But I'm not sure what it is— can you not just come over here and take a look?" Akari eyed Mark threateningly, crossing her arms over her chest as if to say: 'And you think that'll work?' But when he just turned back to look outside, she caved, blinking as her hands fell back to her sides. Glancing every so often at her friend, Akari paced forward slowly until she stood beside him. And mimicking her coworker, the younger girl leaned over and cupped her hands against the glass, narrowing her eyes and scanning the sidewalk in front of the station.

At first she didn't see anything. There didn't seem to be anything out there, and in her mind she was starting to plot on how exactly she would slam Mark's face down on the metal rollers. Should she leave the hotdogs off, or would it be better if they were still on? But as she twisted to the side to try and follow his line of vision, the girl went stiff as her eyes landed on what must have been the topic of interest. Or at least that thing that caused Mark to suddenly stop ranting about reality television.

"…What is it?" Akari asked reluctantly. She inched closer to the glass, trying to see whether or not that would help her range of vision; but all she could come up with the same odd shape. Whatever it was, it was really small. It looked like it was curled up in some kind of ball. But…the form was awkward. Hunkered down kind of— not like a regular sort of thing. She'd blame it on a stray ice bag that was left out, but that possibility was just too small. And it didn't have the logo of the gas station printed on it. She couldn't be sure, but it looked like…

"Is it a person?" Mark asked, voicing the question that was just crossing through her mind.

"I mean— that was what I was thinking," Akari murmured, leaning back into her hips as her face creased itself over in befuddlement. "But…it can't be, can it? It's way too late, and…"

But it was like Mark wasn't even listening to her. Again. "It looks like a kid," he announced suddenly.

Akari shifted, looking unnerved for a second. But the girl quickly shook her head, waving her hands rapidly in front of her as if to literally shake off the situation. She rolled her eyes and gave a small laugh, already starting to turn on her toe and march herself back to where she belonged. Which was behind the register. "Of course it's not a kid," she said dismissively, her voice laced with humor, as if she thought the possibility ridiculous. And…well, she did. "It's like two in the morning, Mark. It's probably nothing. You're tired— last night you were up late watching girls cry on television. Let's just get back to work. And besides, kids are asleep by now."

"So why is one sitting outside our store?" Mark demanded, turning back to eye her with a sour expression. Akari pretended not to hear, wondering whether or not their boss had wanted them to clean up a little bit while they were working the night shift. There was still a weird stain on the ground by the bathroom, but she sure wasn't about to be the one to mop it up. Maybe she could get Mark to do it; but last time that had happened, they'd ended up with more chaos on the ground that in the first place. But before she could walk more than two feet away, her friend turned abruptly towards the door. "I'm going out there," he declared, his voice firm and resolute.

This managed to make Akari do a double take. Her eyes went wide, and immediately she stopped dead and spun back around to face him. "Wait a minute, what?"

"I'm gonna go see who that is," Mark repeated. "I mean— whoever it is, they're just sitting there against the wall. You were right; nobody is out this late. But this one is. So I might as well go and see what the heck they're doing." He paused for a second and shrugged. "And anyway, loitering is against store policy. So. There's that. Just wait for me to get back in and we can finish whatever you were talking about." Akari was rigid, her mouth halfway open as he stared blankly towards her friend. He leaned over and pushed on the door, the girl immediately shivering as a burst of the cold wind from outside infiltrated the heated workplace.

"Mark, stop!" she shouted, frustration eating at her nerves. "You can't just leave like this; you're supposed to be working right now!" Mark still was listening. He was walking over the threshold of the door, turning cautiously over to where the thing against the wall was hunkered. "Mark!" Akari snapped, heatedly now as her hands balled into fists at her sides. "Mark! This is how horror movies start! You're going to get stabbed in the throat! And then what am I going to do!?" Her words were only met with the slam of a door as Mark closed it behind her.

She huffed, annoyance and apprehension causing her stomach to churn. The worker turned and glanced around the empty gas station, her tiredness forgotten in the moment of it all as she wondered wildly what she was supposed to do. What was Mark even thinking? They had no idea who that person was! If it was even a person in the first place! Loitering around a gas station early in the morning before the sun was up? That spelled bad news to even the stupidest of people! Sighing shortly underneath her breath, Akari rushed back over to the window, her hands clasped in front of her nervously as her eyes combed the area right along the storefront.

Mark was immediately stricken with a rush of frigid air. Already he could see that it was starting to spatter out some snow; the weather report had predicted about six inches by nine tomorrow morning— he could only guess how quickly that it would all pick up if it was just now starting to come to a head. Which made his concern for the person who was sitting out here spike even further. What were they doing out here right now? Weren't they cold? Did they not hear what the weathermen were rumoring about? It was supposed to be half a foot by sunup!

Mark turned, looking over to the left and catching sight of the person once again. They hadn't moved, which wasn't really surprising to him at all. Combing a hand through his hair, the gas station employee let out a tense huff of air, starting forward in a gait that exuded caution and hesitance. Now that he was actually out here, he was starting to realize what Akari was mentioning when she said 'horror movie.' But this person couldn't even be more than five foot standing up, could they? It was a kid— that or a really, really short homeless person. And even then…was that a threat? And besides— if their boss came in in in the morning and saw someone loitering, then they both would get into trouble. So he kept on walking.

The closer he got to the person, the easier it was to make out their features. The neon lights of the store shone a harsh light over the small figure, and that was the first detail that Mark was able to fully grasp. Whoever this was, they were very tiny— very thin, too. Their clothes were hanging off of them in a baggy fashion; they looked like they were wearing a sweatshirt at least two sizes too big for them as it ended in a pool on the ground. The person's – there was little to no doubt now that it _had_ to be a child – right leg was drawn tightly to their chest; the other one was extended awkwardly out to the side. Their forehead was pressed down against their knee, which left their face hidden away.

Even as he got closer and closer to them, whoever it was didn't move. They didn't even twitch a muscle. They merely remained still, and once Mark was just a few feet away, he decided that it was close enough. Until he was able to analyze the situation better, this would be good. "Hey." he called out towards them, his voice soft and a little cautious as he eyed the small form. Again, the person didn't move or react in any way.

He hesitated a second at the lack of response, twisting to look back at the station's storefront window. Akari was pressed up against the glass still, her eyes as round as two twin moons. For all it was worth, he guessed that his friend had stopped assuming that he was pranking her. But as soon as they locked eyes, Akari leaned back, shaking her head rapidly and beckoning him back into the building. The coworker responded with a harsh glare, and Akari blew out her cheeks, rolling her eyes as she reached up to tug anxiously at her hair.

Ignoring her and her obvious pleas to come back in, Mark turned away from her and back to the figure. He gnawed down on his bottom lip, wincing slightly to himself. But after a brief bout of hesitation, the worker knelt down, crouching on the balls of his feet to try and make himself eye-level with whoever this was. And after a second or two more, he sidled closer, bending awkwardly to try and see whether or not he could make out this person's face. The details of their physical appearance wouldn't really help him that much— he didn't know a whole lot of people, and he never made a habit out of spending quality time with people who go and sit outside gas stations at two in the morning. But at least he would be able to pair a situation with a face. If not assure him that Akari was wrong and that it wasn't some chainsaw murderer.

"My name's Mark," he introduced himself, clearing his throat so that he could be heard. He watched the other carefully and tried to gauge for some kind of reaction. Nada. So he tried again. "What's your name?" Absolutely nothing. "Look are you, uh….are you okay? In trouble? Something like that?" Silence met his ears, and overhead, more and more snow was beginning to collect and fall down in a steady rhythm. He'd only been out her for a few minutes and already he was freezing his tail off. "Can you talk?" he asked, wondering if he was dealing with some homeless mute. Or maybe a sleeping one? Because there sure wasn't a reply.

Mark sighed in the back of his throat, reaching up and wiping his hand on his chin thoughtfully. Maybe if they wouldn't reply, then it was pointless. Maybe he should go back inside. It would get him out of this freezing weather, which was for sure.

But he couldn't shake the feeling that something was wrong. Something had to be awfully wrong….right? And he couldn't just ignore that, could he? He offered a small smile, but it was a rather pointless gesture, since the person never looked up from the ground in order to see it. "Hey…I really don't want to be the bad guy here, man," Mark continued, showing that he was a pretty persistent person in terms of trying to upkeep conversation. "But there's this whole law about loitering in the city. And it's company policy too— I had to sign a form and everything about it when I got this job. And…I can't really let you just sit out here like you've been…." He paused briefly before going on in a more upbeat tone. "Plus – if you haven't noticed – it's starting to snow. And pretty soon you're going to be up to your neck in ice if you don't budge. …Do you, uh…do you have a house? Someplace to go back to? Maybe a car ride away? Or….something?"

The person didn't reply, but at this Mark caught the slightest of movements. The hunched form drew their leg closer to their chest, burying their head down further as the smallest of noises came out of their throat. It sounded like a whimper, and Mark's lips were pulled down into a deep frown as the sound registered in his mind. Definitely a kid now; no doubt about it. But it was a kid that seemed in a really terrible situation. His hair was a mess, his clothes were even more so, he looked skinny enough to be blown away by the wind, and he was shaking head to toe from the cold. He must have been out here for longer than Mark first thought. Biting down on his lower lip, Mark's voice was considerably softer as he started to edge closer slowly. "Hey kid…do you need some help?" he encouraged. "You don't look so hot…you want me to help you?"

Nothing.

"Here— at least let me get you inside and out of this cold. You look freezing. Is that okay?" Still the child didn't reply, but by now their shivering was gradually becoming more violent. It was a piteous sight, and Mark found that he didn't even care anymore about the situation. This kid needed some assistance pronto. And what excuse did they have right now not to help him? "Here, let me come and help you up," he offered kindly, shuffling over so that he that there was less than an inch's space between them.

He reached out and grasped the smaller one's hands, holding tight and pulling up as he started to stand. He expected the kid to resist or cry out as soon as he touched him, but surprisingly they were completely obedient. That, or they were just so out of it that they couldn't be bothered to say anything. But regardless, they stood up in time with Mark, though it was mostly the elder that was doing all the work. Their legs were shaking and trembling far too much to try and offer any help to the simple action of getting up. They looked similar to pool noodles with the way that they bent and trembled. At first Mark realized this might be an issue. Yet the kid was more than weightless— a whole lot lighter than he probably should have been, which didn't help to stall the mounting concern that Mark was experiencing. But at least he could lift him with ease this way.

"That's it," Mark said, his voice turning slightly encouraging. "You can come inside where it's a little bit warmer. We have a phone you can use— if you want to call someone? Do you have someone you could call? Like…your mom? Your dad?" The kid didn't say anything, his head still hanging low as Mark tried his best to pull him into an upright standing position. The gas station worker grimaced, bending his knees slightly in the effort to get the boy standing upright; one they were able to get him up, then they could go back into the gas station and get this all sorted out. And the sooner the better— Christ, it was freezing out here.

"Or maybe we could call someone else? Maybe I could drive you home, if you know your address?" He was certainly going to get his karma's worth by the end of the night. And – surprise, surprise – there was no reply. He perked, starting to work the kid into balancing on his own two feet without help. But they were swaying now, as if they were sick, and he figured that such an inference couldn't be that far from the truth. So Mark frowned, waiting until the kid was steady on both feet before moving on. Maybe if he changed tactics he could make more progress. "If you could just tell me your name, then this would be much easier to—"

He wasn't able to finish. As soon as he got the kid standing, – they were an entire foot shorter than he was – there was a sudden snapping noise, which sliced right through the thin winter air.

At first Mark thought that he had accidentally stepped on a twig or a branch that was directly behind him. But the assumption went right out the window as the child in front of him suddenly capsized. Like dead weight, the kid suddenly dropped down to the ground, one of their legs giving out entirely as they slammed into the sidewalk with a heavy thud. Mark stiffened immediately as his eyes grew to be a million times their normal size. And as soon as the snap reached Mark's ears, so did the high-pitched, strangled sound of a scream. The kid's scream.

Mark still held fast to the kid's hands, his grip only tightening with the panic that raced through him upon the sudden change in events. But the kid still swung down, hitting the sidewalk directly with his knees. Rapidly, his breathing fast and hitched now, Mark dropped down as well, reaching over and pulling the kid's shoulder that he was on his back rather than his stomach. His hands were shaking, and alarm was written over his face like a novel.

He could see the kid's face now— it was a boy. A young boy, whose face was now ravaged in an extreme amount of pain and agony. His teeth were clenched tightly, and his hands were balled into shaking fists as his back arched in a form of torturous tension. From where she was flush against the window, Akari's hand flew up to clamp tightly over her mouth. The girl's face was drained completely of all color, and as Mark scrambled and fumbled over himself, she finally turned and ran outside as well, bursting out of the door and skidding to a stop a yard or so away from him.

"What's going on?" she gasped sharply, looking down at the writhing child with panic. "What happened? Who is he? What did you do!?"

"I don't know!" Mark stammered, blanking for a second as he just stared down at the kid. They had fallen silent now, but it was not a form of silence that provided relief. Their eyes seemed dull, and every so often, they would jerk and twitch awkwardly. Their head was drooped to the side now, and it was getting harder and harder for the worker to keep his head wrapped around the situation. Reaching up, Mark ran his hand quickly through his hair, his nerves shot and scrambling in confusion. "I just tried to get him up so that he could come inside to call someone or get out of the snow! But I think his leg is hurt! I just— I just heard this snapping sound, and—"

"A snapping sound!?" Akari repeated, her voice about three octaves higher. "Dude, what are you—?"

"Oh my God," Mark rasped, cutting his friend off abruptly midsentence. At first she thought that he was just groaning over what she had to say, the girl's face immediately turning into a deep scowl at the notion. But Mark wasn't even looking over Akari's way anymore. He had leaned over to try and offer the kid some help – but even he had to admit that by now he was a little skeptical on whether or not he was doing more harm than good – when he was stopped short. Now that the kid was on his back, Mark was able to see every single inch of him in the bright light that came through the store windows. And as it highlighted the kid's frame, it also brought forward something that Mark had missed earlier— something that blended seamlessly into the darkness before.

The kid was wearing a hoodie— that much he had been able to tell right from the start. But what he hadn't noticed was the fact that the sleeves of the sweatshirt were dyed a dark, almost blackish-red. Blood was seeping through the cloth at an alarming rate, and the cloth was sticking wetly to the kid's skin; after holding onto the boy for so long, now Mark's hands were smeared and dyed red in a similar fashion. He hadn't been able to notice it before when the kid's arms were facing down, but now that the position was changed, so was the situation, it seemed. And as he looked numbly at the gory sight, the worker's heart plummeted nearly all the way down to the ground as his chest was gripped with a chilled sense of horror.

And slowly, he turned back to look up at Akari.

"Call an ambulance," he rasped softly.

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"Blood loss. We need to get him back to the Hospital as soon as we can."

"He'll need a transfusion— we got the type down yet?"

"I need some answers, people!"

"Looks like it was inflicted with a sharp instrument— I can't tell what though. Is it around here?"

"That's not important right now!"

"He's barely conscious!"

"Don't move him! His ankle is broken!"

"Would you all stop yelling!?" A voice rose out among the rest, managing to cut just a little bit through the chaos that was surrounding the area now. One of the head EMTs shot the others a harsh glare, forcing them back and away from the boy to try and make more space. Upon the call of an emergency, they had found the boy in question borderline unconscious, and as police were speaking with those who had actually called in the event, the medical team was busy trying their best to make sure that the child could be brought to the Hospital in one piece.

A gurney had been rolled out and, with great care, they were now transitioning the minor up onto the rolling stretcher as painlessly as was humanly possible. The child was suffering a bad break in his leg along with a few other injuries— most dangerous being the deep gouges that created tracks up and down both of his arms. Once the medical team had reached the site, the sweatshirt had been the first thing to go, which uncovered to the exact extent how severe the gashes had been made out to be. They were still bleeding, and the boy was barely aware by now. If they couldn't stop bickering over what to do next, then there was more than a good enough possibility that they wouldn't be able to make it the entire ride back.

So one of the men that was in charge made sure that people were making quick work in strapping the boy down to make sure he didn't fall. They needed to load him up in the ambulance and then tear back for the Hospital as fast as they could. As the others worked and managed themselves, the blonde EMT turned, leaning down and peering closely at the boy's face. Couldn't be more than fifteen, at the most. Young. Very skinny. Malnourished. Weak. He was already a seriously concerning case.

"What's your name, son?" the doctor prompted, studying the boy carefully. His eyes were half-lidded at the most, dull and almost emotionless as they seemed to stare at absolutely nothing. It wasn't a good sign— he needed to be awake, he needed to be aware. So the doctor leaned over, grasping of one of the boy's hands and holding it tightly, squeezing with more effort than was probably needed. "Tell me your name, please." He tried to keep his voice gentle, but it was betrayed as it was clenched tightly instead with the tenseness of the situation. And, trying to keep things moving, he walked along with the gurney as it started to roll over to where the Ambulance idled.

At first the child didn't respond. Noting the lack of awareness and feeling a pang in his chest, the doctor tried again. "Son, how about you tell me your name? Do you remember it?" The child stirred slightly, as if he was just aware that he was being spoken to. Taking the slight perk as a good sign, the doctor pushed on quickly before the brief spark of intelligence was lost. "Tell me your name, son. I'm looking for a name. Your name."

When the boy spoke, his voice was a small rasp. It was barely audible, and the boy's mouth hardly moved at all as the almost-incoherent whisper was dragged out. "…Tadashi."

The man stooped down low, putting his ear down closer to the boy's mouth. "What?" he asked, his forehead creasing over. "Your name is Tadashi?"

The boy didn't react for the longest time, only staring blankly ahead. But then, after a long pause, his head twitched in the smallest shake of the head. The doctor nodded, glancing up as they neared the Ambulance. "Alright, well, I need to know your name," he said, his voice taking on a stern edge now as he could see the boy start to grow less and less aware. That was the opposite of what they wanted— he needed to get the kid to start thinking, and he needed to do it fast. "Tell me your name, kid. First and last. You can do it."

Again, the reply was just as delayed. And again, it was just as feeble. "Hiro," the boy exhaled out weakly. "…Hiro H-…Hamada…"

The doctor paused, withdrawing as the gurney's legs were folded back so that it could be hoisted into the ambulance. But he kept his hand wrapped tightly around the boy's, and once the stretcher had been locked into palace, he immediately stepped inside so that he could regain his post. Quickly he began to check for vitals, barking out orders to the other medical personnel that had loaded into the back as well. And as the rest of the team immediately began to the struggle to keep the boy going physically, the head EMT watched cautiously, trying to keep the boy afloat mentally instead. If Hiro could just remain awake, then they would have a much easier time in getting him to the Hospital stable. If the mind shuts down, then it marks the first domino's fall. The rest of the child would become just as susceptible.

"Okay, Hiro Hamada," the man said quickly, applying off and on pressure to the boy's hand to try and give him something to concentrate on. "Can you tell me how this happened? How'd you get so cut up? Do you remember? Could you tell me, do you think?" he demanded. Hiro's mouth opened just slightly, as if he was going to reply. But no sound came from him; his head began to droop limply to the side instead. And feeling a sense of growing alarm, the doctor tried a different approach. "Do you remember if you had something? Something sharp? Could you tell me what it was? Do you think you could remember for me?"

"…no." the boy's words were, again, no more than a sigh.

"Right," the doctor said, nodding briskly. "That's fine. Don't feel bad." The other members of the medical team were trying to staunch the bleeding from the boy's arms as best they could, and every so often the Ambulance would jerk as it turned a sharper corner than usual. But the team assembled were well-trained, and they hardly even noticed the shifts.

The head doctor cleared his throat. "Do you have family?" he moved on to ask, glancing over at the monitors with a worried look. And when the teenager didn't reply, he only repeated his words a little sharper. "Hiro, I asked you if you had a family. Don't leave me hanging here, buddy. Answer me, please."

The boy's forehead creased, a whimper escaping him as one of the team members pressed down hard on a particularly deep cut. And when he spoke, his voice was tight and wrought in agony. "Aunt Cass." It came out more of a sob than anything else, as if he was calling out to see if she was there. One of the other doctors looked pained at the tone of voice the child used, but the man standing over him was far too engrossed in what was doing to pick up on such a thing as that. He just nodded rapidly, leaning over and peering out to try and see how close they were to the Hospital. The cuts in his arms weren't as easily pluggable as the team was hoping. The stench of blood was still thick in the air.

"So you've got a family, that's good," the man said, leaning back and trying to test the boy's alertness. He leaned over and ghosted a hand in front of the boy's face, but Hiro didn't even blink. He moved it closer, and the boy still did not react. Hiro's head was lolling farther and farther to the side, and the man took in a sharp breath. "Hiro, you gotta keep your head up for me, alright? Don't let it drop— let's see if you can hold your chin up the entire way there, okay? Can you do that for me? Keep your eyes open, don't let them close. Try to stay awake, buddy; I know it's hard. But you can't go to sleep. Okay? Can you stay awake for me, please?"

The boy mimicked his movement from earlier, his head just barely twitching in a defeated shake. His hooded eyes were beginning to close entirely, and the doctor gave a loud curse, trying to fight the urge to slam his hand down on the gurney in frustration. Losing patients was bad enough, but when it came to kids, everyone else was hyperaware. "We need a stabilizer; now!" he barked out to the others, who immediately began to scramble upon the order. Shaking his head, he turned and looked back down at the strapped-down child. "Come on, Hiro; you've made it this far. Don't give up now, we're almost there." When the teen didn't react, he pressed again. "Hiro, you've got to stay awake. I know you don't want to, but you have to. If you fall asleep you won't be able to see your family. You won't be able to see Aunt Cass. So stay awake, okay?"

The boy's head fell, moving so that the boy's cheek was flush to the gurney. His eyes slipped closed, as if the weight became too much to hold open.

"Shit…Hiro!" the doctor yelled. "Hiro, come on. You've got to work with me; I can't do all of this myself. You've gotta play a part." He bit back a mouthful of frustration, feeling it start to burn him from head to toe. Grasping at straws by now, the blonde tried to change tactics, in the hope that it might prove to be more beneficial. "Here— let's test those math skills, okay?" he prompted. "What's two times two?"

Hiro didn't reply, oblivious to the question.

"Come on, Hiro, I know you know this one; everyone does. What's two times two? It's the same as two plus two. So come on. Get it out."

"Doctor." One of the assistants spoke up, their voice tense. "We're losing him."

"Hiro, you gotta stay awake. What's two times two?" the man demanded, his voice turned almost harsh now.

Still the boy did not reply.

"Hiro! Work with me here, Hiro! Come on! What's two times two? You're a smart kid, I'm sure you can get it. It's easy. Two times two. Hiro…? Two times two . . . ?"

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It was quiet. In the dark it seemed like nothing was moving. That everything was still and almost peaceful. Aunt Cass was on her side, laying down in bed. But her eyes were wide open and staring—whatever sense of peace there seemed to be on the outside, didn't seem to reach her at all. Her eyes were dark with bags, which openly showed just how many nights she had remained awake like this. She just couldn't manage to fall asleep— not right now. Blinking a few times and looking over the clock, she realized just how late it was. Or…well, technically how early.

After a long pause, the woman turned and pushed off her sheets, wriggling out of bed and putting her feet down on the floor. It was icy cold to the touch, and she fought off a small shiver upon contact. And after another weary glance at the clock, she turned and made her way out over the threshold of her door, walking down the hall as she wrung her hands together in front of her. She didn't bother to turn on any lights as she walked— there wasn't anything inside of the home that she didn't already know. It was empty; there was no point.

Her steps were light and soft against the wood, and they seemed to echo back and forth as they bounced off the walls. Treading lightly, she turned and started to scale the steps, turning and looking over each picture frame that she passed as she walked. There was a sort of wistful smile on her face, but the expression was cracked and sorrowful in places as well. She had put these pictures along the wall so that she could glance over at them at times and smile at the memory that had been snapped into place. She had never anticipated that now they served the purpose of an actual remembrance of the people inside. Or the relationships that were shown through tight hugs and smiles.

After a few minutes of sidetracked walking, Cass got up to the landing of the boys' room. Well— Hiro's room. She hadn't come up here since her nephew had vanished, and gazing at it now was like getting stabbed with a rusted knife. It was dark and lifeless— the covers were still mussed up from the last time that he had slept in there, which seemed like it had to have been ages ago. Hesitating in the entrance to the room, she paused, biting down on her lower lip as if she wasn't sure whether or not she was exactly welcome. But after the pause, she shook herself and walked forward, going to over to her nephew's bed and leaning over to start pulling the sheets down snugly over the mattress. It was a mess, and she figured that as long as she wasn't doing anything, she might as well start trying to clean. So she made the bed slowly and mechanically, every so often looking up to the other side of the room where Tadashi had used to sleep.

The bed look slept in as well from where she stood, and Aunt Cass felt an awful pang in her chest as she realized that her older boy's hat – the one that had until now rested comfortably on top of the comforter – was now missing. Hiro must have taken it with him when he left. How often had the boy sat up here and…just stared at his brother's belongings? At the untouched bed and the duty shelf beside it? And how many times had Hiro curled up in his brother's old bed? With how many hours her nephew had spent up inside his room, it couldn't have been a very small number.

She kicked herself repeatedly for not getting rid of all of Tadashi's furniture and belongings. Well, maybe not entirely get rid of. Thinking of doing such a thing caused even more heartache to settle over her shoulders. But even storing it away would have probably made the burden that Hiro was holding up a little bit lighter, or easier. She could have boxed up all of Tadashi's things and stored them away in the garage, rather than leaving it all out and standing, as if her elder nephew was still milling around upstairs.

And now, standing inside of the empty room where her nephew had once slept, she listed all of the things that she could had done differently.

She could have emptied out the space on the other side of the room and remodeled it all with Hiro. They could have gone out and bought paint or wallpaper, they could have bought furniture or even another gaming system for the boy. They could have made a project out of something terrible, and maybe in doing so, they could have both moved on from what had happened much easier. But instead she had just let Tadashi's things stay inside of Hiro's room as a reminder of what her little boy had lost. How could she have been so awful? How could she have been so stupid?

She wiped at her eyes briefly, trying to shake her thoughts free before they could accumulate any further. Instead she tried to focus on what she was doing, looking down and making sure that the blankets were straightened and according— so neat that she could bounce a quarter off of them. She tried to drag out the simple chore for as long as she could, her movements slow and stiff. For once she got through with this job, she would once again be at a loss of what she could possibly do with herself. Cass was just in the middle of fluffing her nephew's pillow, when all of a sudden, a noise sliced right through the silence of the early morning.

She went rigid as a harsh ringing sound carved its way forward, the woman unnerved as she looked up from her work. It was the phone, she realized. Though even as the detail dawned over her, she remained unmoving. She glanced over to the window nearest to her and frowned— the sun was only just starting to peak its way up from the horizon. Who could be calling her at this late hour? From the back of her stomach, the guardian experienced the smallest strings of hope began to weave itself forward. And for the briefest moment, her throat clenched it on itself as the emotion threatened to overwhelm her entirely. Could it be the police? Had they found something?

It took her a while to tear herself away from the room. She hesitated, almost wishing that she could linger inside of the embrace of her nephew's old room. To hold the boy's pillow close and bury her face in it. To lay down where he had probably lain still night after sleepless night. To sit in her little guy's chair and wonder whether or not doing such a thing would allow her to realize the boy's train of thought. To finally be able to understand why he had left her with no warning at all. But she knew that she couldn't. Whoever was calling, especially at this time of night, must have had something to say to her. And maybe it could be important.

She turned and smoothed over the covers one last time before turning on her heel and rushing down the steps. She nearly keeled over once or twice, but she managed to keep herself upright, and as soon as she hit the level ground, she was rushing for the phone. With a grateful huff of air, the woman answered picked up the receiver on its last ring, just barely catching it before it went to voicemail. And bringing the device up to her ear, she let out a sharp exhale before speaking. "Hello?" she asked, her hand subconsciously clenching tightly around the edge of the counter as she found herself going tense and stiff with expectation. "Hello? Can I help you?" she repeated, gnawing down on her lower lip.

There was background noise on the other line. Things like conversation and beeping— wherever this was, it seemed like a busy enough place. However as the person on the other end of the conversation began to speak, their voice was controlled and calm— slightly clipped, as if in a business-like tone. "Hello?" the person asked presently. "Good morning, ma'am. This is Samantha Weiss from Benioff Children's Hospital." Cass stiffened even more at this. "I work down in the intensive care wing of the Hospital— could I please speak to a Miss Cass Hamada?"

It took a second for her to realize that the woman on the other line was waiting for her to respond. When she did, her voice was emotionless, barely audible as it came out as nothing more than a whisper. "…yes," she rasped hollowly. "…yes, this is her."

"Ah. I see," Samantha said easily. "Miss Hamada, it is a very good thing that we were able to find your number. At three o'clock this morning, a young boy was brought into our emergency room." Cass jerked backwards, recoiling as if she had been slapped across the face. A small, pained noise was wrenched out from the back of her throat, but Samantha didn't seem to notice. Or if she did, she paid no heed. "He was found very weak and severely injured from what turned out to be self-inflicted wounds on both of his arms. He had lost a lot of blood, but we managed to get a few answers out of him. He said that his name was Hiro Hamada, and upon examination we found that you were the sole guardian of him? Is this true?"

Her heart had plummeted straight to the ground. And it was only in a shell-shocked murmur that she managed a reply. "…yes…yes I'm—…that's him." Her voice was clenched back as her throat swelled itself shut, and she raised a trembling hand to cover her mouth. Tears had swarmed forward, and her vision started to blur as her lower lip began to tremble violently. Her next words came out in a heavy sob, and she shook her head back and forth, as if trying to jar herself out of dream. "He's my nephew," she cried, ducking her head down low to her chest. "Oh my God…he's my nephew."

"Ma'am, it's okay; please calm down." Samantha's voice was unwaveringly calm. "Your nephew is fine. We took care of him in the emergency room, and we've made sure that he's stable. He's now being held in the Intensive Care unit, and he's being well taken-care of. He's staying in room 221; the intensive care unit is located on the third floor. I trust that you will arrive shortly for him? I'm aware that news such as this is very alarming to you, especially since your nephew has been missing for quite some time from what I know. But we really do need you down here to file paperwork and help in the recovery process."

"Of course," she murmured, ever so softly. For a moment or two she fell quiet, choking back on her own sobs before they could force their way out from her mouth. The silence stretched on, and the woman on the other end began to say a farewell. But before she could, Cass jerked forward, closing her eyes tightly and shaking her head again. "Wait!" she said quickly. "Wait. Could you…um…" she bit down hard, closing her eyes before forcing herself to speak coherently, which suddenly had become nearly impossible. "Could you tell me…tell me how he is?" she asked, her voice soft and regretful. "Could you tell me what…— could you please let me know how…?" She could not bring herself to finish. She just winced, flinching as she turned to lean against the counter, now relying on it for support.

Thankfully Samantha seemed to grasp what she was pleading for. "Hiro Hamada is stable now." she reassured her. "We've got him hooked up to monitors that will alert us if anything in his vitals change, and we've got a team of doctors on hand if something goes wrong. But right now we're just waiting for him to recover. He's asleep right now, which is good considering the sight that we found him in. He's very weak as well. It looks like he's gone a couple of days without sleep, and he's severely malnourished, so we're watching that. We've bandaged up his arms and we're treating him for infection with his wounds. He also has a break— his ankle snapped shortly before we got there with an ambulance, so we gave him a brace for that as well."

Samantha paused before clearing her throat and going on. "Your nephew did go into a brief cardiac arrest on the way to the Hospital, but the doctors managed to revive him before he could suffer any consequences. Or at least any more severe ones. So I can assure you that we're keeping a close eye on him as the day goes on. But he's been asleep in Intensive Care for about an hour now. I'm sure that if you'd like, the doctors can go on in further detail for you when you get here. I'm just a nurse, so I might not be able to give you as much information as you'd like in comparison."

But Cass' attention had been hindered on one of the first words that rang against her eardrums. "…C-Cardiac arrest?" She blinked rapidly, reaching up and pressing her hand against her forehead. "Cardiac arrest…what is…isn't that…?"

"His heart stopped for about twenty seconds," Samantha answered her clearly. "He suffered quite a lot of pain and blood loss. So we're monitoring him closely."

It was clear that the longer the phone call got, the more intrusive Cass was being. This person was a nurse, after all— she must have quite a lot of things to do considering that the day was just beginning. So she bit back any other questions that were piling onto her tongue, telling herself that she would just have to wait until she got down there to ask more. So, sniffing and rubbing at her eyes in a rough motion, Cass nodded and swallowed with difficulty. "Okay," she whispered, her voice sounding as if it was shattered and broken in pieces on the floor around her. "…Okay….thank you. Very much."

Samantha hummed a quick reply and repeated helpfully: "Intensive Care. Room 221. Third floor."

"I'll remember," she murmured despondently.

"Well then I'll look forward to meeting you when you get here. And I'm sure that your nephew will be very happy to see you," Samantha remarked, almost casually. No sooner had the words travelled their way through to the other end, was there a telltale click that signaled the nurse had hung up. And the device that Cass pressed anxiously to her ear was brought to a dead standstill, now as quiet as the room that surrounded her on all sides. And listening to the steady beat of absolutely nothing, Cass reached up and clasped the landline tightly with both hands, pulling it close so that there was relatively no space between her and the receiver.

The quietness of it all caught her off-guard and it threatened to swallow her. How could such a silence come after such earth-shattering news?

After a long moment she spoke, her voice soft and injured and laced with thick apprehension. And suddenly it didn't even matter that Samantha wasn't even on the line anymore. She just closed her eyes and took in a deep, wavering breath. "…How do you know?" she whispered.

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The only sound inside of the room was the steady beeps that were being emitted from the machine situated beside the bed. Outside in the hall there was a constant flurry of activity— people would make a constant presence outside of the glass door. People running down the hallway, people walking around aimlessly, people searching in frantic ways for another room, and some people that just stood, staring with a multitude of expressions that pained Cass to look at for too long. So instead, she tried to avert her eyes; but no matter where she looked, whatever sight befell her caused the woman's heart to clench and twist regardless. Everything was a reminder of what this all was, and what it meant. The Hospital bed that she sat close to. The stiff, rolling chair that she had situated herself in. The sound of the heart monitor making its intrusive appearance over and over again. And most importantly, the fact that her nephew, who she had not seen in weeks, was now limp and unconscious underneath the sheets.

Cass had talked to so many people in the past two hours she had been here. She had talked to nurses, doctors, police officers, and even secretaries. She had thanked the officers for all their help, explaining that yes, this was her nephew that had been put on posters and news broadcasts. He was found now and he was safe. Or safer than he must have been. She had asked nurses and doctors what was going on or what she could possibly do. She had asked far too many questions to count, and the people she pestered tried their best to answer all her inquires. Yet now, sitting inside of the dim-lit room, Cass' heart was no less burdened than it had been as soon as she had picked up the phone.

Even now, her eyes watered up and she gave a small sniff, looking down and wiping her eyes as she tried to get her shoulders to stop shaking. Instead she shook her head, turning and looking down at Hiro with a gaze heavy with emotion. Her nephew was still sleep, just like he had been ever since she had first got there. He was lying flat on his back, but his head was lolled over so that it looked as if he was looking over at his aunt. The monitors and the IV were hooked up in the form of needles seated into the child's wrist and inner elbow. His right arm was boarded to the side to ensure that if he turned over in his sleep, he would not tug the needles out of his skin in the process. The boy's clothes had been stripped and replaced with light blue Hospital scrubs. The clothes provided were thin and ended in short sleeves, which displayed quite clearly the tight gauze that stretched all the way from the ends of his wrists to underneath his shoulders. The bandages were stained with hints of blood, and every time that her gaze snatched on the dressings, Cass struggled to hold back a whimper of pain, as if the gashes had been her own.

She swallowed thickly and leaned forward not for the first time, reaching out with a hand that trembled in an ever so slight fashion. Cass shifted out over the bed and carded her fingers gently through her nephew's hair, tucking it back behind his ear as she brushed it away from his face. He always had such messy hair— Cass had repeatedly tried to make mental notes to get it cut, but they never really got around to it. It was more of a mutual agreement that it wasn't all that important.

Yet in pushing back his hair, Cass bit down on her lower lip, studying how gaunt his face seemed to be— how skinny he was, and how sickly he appeared. He was pale and whiter than he normally was, and even when he was asleep, his forehead was slightly creased, as if he was still in pain even in unconsciousness. It brought a pang to her chest, and she tried her best to stave out against it. Instead she merely continued to draw her fingers soothingly through Hiro's messy locks, her eyes almost distant as she stared blankly.

The task was mindless, and she let her cognitive thought slip away, the woman left to wallow in the mixed emotions that were piling and piling on top of one another. She was upset of course— she was angry and frustrated and confused and hopeless. But most all she was…heartbroken. And at a loss of what to do from this point on. All of her life, things had turned out the best between her and her boys. They were smart in school, they were kind during café hours, and they were loving towards her. Sure, maybe there were a few isolated issues where Hiro got into minor trouble with the police. But that was the point— it was always minor. And with little to no consequences, it wasn't really that important in the first place. But after that night of the Showcase, everything had fallen apart. Tadashi had died. And now Hiro had been a hairline's width close to following in his older brother's steps. How had everything spiraled out of control? At any other time this year, she would have been sitting on the couch with Hiro watching old Christmas movies, the only space between them coming in the form of a popcorn bowl. Now they were in the Intensive Care Unit of a Children's Hospital, the large plastic bulk of the bed coming in between them. Instead of light Christmas tunes, there was the blip of a heart monitor— a machine that made Cass' own heart skip a beat with each occasional pause.

She was jarred abruptly out of her thoughts with the smallest of noises. An almost insignificant whimper rose up to clash against the silence that had previously permeated the area. Immediately she stiffened and looked down, her fingers stilling in the mess of her nephew's hair as she fell motionless. However in contrast, Hiro was beginning to stir, the boy turning his head as a greater grimace settled over his features. His fingers curled and uncurled repeatedly, and Cass thought that she could see the whites of his eyes as they barely flickered. Hiro's mouth opened as if he was going to say something, and in front of her, Cass realized that the heart monitor was beginning to pick up in its steady rhythm, moving from its moderato pace into more of an allegro. So she shook herself, hurriedly running her fingers again through his hair again as she leaned down close. "Shhh!" she whispered, her eyebrows pulling together in harsh concern. "Shhh; honey, it's okay. It's okay, Hiro, you're safe. You're fine, sweetie; everything going to be just fine."

But rather than being comforted by the hushed words, Hiro seemed to grow more confused and stressed. The child's face creased over in a more severe fashion, and he began to jerk, as if he was trying to get up, but couldn't tell which direction he needed to go in order to do so. His heart monitor got faster and faster, illustrating the boy's rising panic and alarm. Cass grimaced deeply, reaching over and trying to push his shoulders down with a gentle touch. She shook her head and struggled to keep her hand running comfortingly through his hair, despite the fact that Hiro was twisting and writhing. "Honey, you're fine. You're back. Okay? Do you remember what happened?" Her voice broke at this, and her eyes overflowed with water as she tried in vain to console him. He looked so scared. "I'm right here, honey, don't be frightened. I'm here with you. Okay? Please calm down."

Though the heart monitor remained fast and elevated, Hiro eventually fell still. The boy's face was written over in pain, and Cass wondered wildly if something had gone wrong. If he had jarred his ankle or ripped open one of the gashes on his arms. In a rising fit of concern, she was about to get up and check, her worry overflowing in a tidal wave as her hands began to shake again. Was he okay? What was she expected to do? Did she have to get some of the doctors? Would they come in here on their own accord once they were alerted by the more-erratic beats of the monitor? She started to stand and take her hand away from Hiro, when she was suddenly stopped short.

A small, weakened sob murmured its way out from the boy's mouth, and it caused Cass to jerk backwards, as if she was burned. The brunette looked down, feeling her chest constrict as her eyes befell her injured nephew. She sniffed, a fresh wave of heat rushing over her as she reluctantly began to caress him again. But her heart was still in her throat. Hiro was not in his right mind as of right now— that much was obvious. The doctors had told her that with the boy's injuries, his malnutrition, his lack of sleep, and the amount of medicine that he was being given, he probably would be out of it for a while. And only a few hours after he was brought into the Intensive Care unit, Cass knew that there was no way for Hiro to have as cognitive a grasp on things as he normally did.

"You okay, honey?" she whispered, her voice soft as her eyes flickered over him sorrowfully. "…Hiro, do you feel sick? Do you want me to call a doctor?" When he didn't reply, she shook her head, pressing forward in almost a desperate sort of fashion. "Tell me where it hurts, sweetie. I can make it better. That's all I want to do."

Hiro didn't open his eyes, only squeezing them shut tighter. And when he finally managed to get words out, his voice was barely audible and raspy, filled with pain and discomfort on more than one level. As soon as it made contact with her ears, Cass could feel her heart, which up until this point had been struggling to keep itself together in the first place, cave into itself and shatter entirely. Hiro's voice was the smallest of whines— a kind of sound that brought to the woman's mind a picture of a much younger, much more vulnerable child, who had fallen and scraped open their knee. And the words brought forward in between them tore at her heart even more. "…I'm broken." Hiro gasped, his voice strained and wavering.

Cass had to hold herself back, reaching up and covering her mouth before she could let out the cry that bubbled itself up. Her shoulders shook a little bit and she seemed to crumble. However, dropping her hand down and taking in a sharp inhale, the woman managed to gather herself as quickly as she could. Cass needed to remain stable; for Hiro. She cleared her throat and offered a pinched smile, though it was a pointless effort as Hiro only curled further into himself. Her voice was shaking like a leaf in the wind, and she hoped that her nephew couldn't hear the amount of agony that was in her own voice when she spoke. "No, honey," she sniffed, reaching up to dab at her eyes quickly, in case he opened his own. "No, sweetie, you're not broken. Of course not. You're getting all patched up."

She took in a slow, shivering breath, and shook her head again to try and clear it. She shifted her hold, going down to rub comforting circles on the child's shoulder. And holding her voice as steady as possible, she went on as best she could. "You're in the hospital," she clarified gently. "They're taking such good care of you, honey, you shouldn't worry at all. They've got your— they've got your arms all bandaged up." Her voice broke and she wavered as the mental image of her son flat lining filled her mind. Again, she tried to shake it before it could fester inside of her. And instead, she tried to force her voice into a brighter tone. "Your ankle is in a brace, and as soon as possible they're going to try and get some food into your system. That'll be good…right?" She sniffed and proceeded to wipe at her eyes again. A worn smile traced over her face, and she gave a small nod. "You're okay, honey," she assured him sweetly. "You're going to be just fine."

Hiro's face had relaxed some time ago, and at first Cass assumed that it was because she was actually managing to comfort him. But after a moment or two, she realized that it was just because he was so exhausted. The boy was falling back into unconsciousness after only a few short minutes of being awake. Cass' expression was pained, but she continued to run her hand comfortingly across her child's shoulders. A few seconds passed, and she assumed that her nephew had fallen asleep again. But after the pause, her inference was proven wrong as he moved just slightly a second time.

Groggily, Hiro shook his head from side to side. The motion was sloppy and careless, Cass frowning as she started to reach over to put his head back into place. It fell down to the left, and such a position couldn't be comfortable at al. But her hand was stopped mid-reach as Hiro let out a ragged whisper, his lips hardly moving.

"No," he mumbled, his voice, though fuzzy and unclear, bright with pain. And wearily, disregarding his aunt's words entirely, Hiro repeated his statement from before. "…I'm broken."

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The next time Hiro woke up, it was a vastly different situation.

And it stayed that way.

Aunt Cass stood in the hallway of the Hospital, chewing on her fingernails in a worried habit. Her clothes were a little bit more than wrinkled, and her hair was no doubt a complete rat's nest. The only shower she'd had in the past three days was rushed and hurried in between bouts of Hiro's consciousness. She hadn't wanted to leave him alone when he was awake, and whatever sleep Hiro did manage to catch always passed in quick, small bouts. Bringing a change of clothes for herself was not in the list of priorities, either. She was not about to leave Hiro long enough for her to drive all the way back home to fetch anything of the sort, especially when it was such a trivial matter of importance.

She was watching the doctor retreat down the hall, the man having just finished speaking to her and giving her the directions that, by now, were a necessity. They were to be released from the Hospital after their three-day-long stay, and go back home by 4:30 P.M. as soon as the doctors did one last clearance on the child. The wounds on Hiro's arms were not at risk of further infection anymore, and now all that Aunt Cass was expected to do in respect to the injuries was rewrap them from time to time in order to keep them clean. Other than that, things would go back to normal. She was going to take her nephew home and get him resituated. The only obstacle was…

She gnawed on her lower lip, turning back to look over her shoulder to the Hospital room behind her. Through the window, she could see Hiro, in exactly the same position as she had left him. In exactly the same position as he had been all day. The child was curled up on his left side, as if wounded. His head was ducked so that his bangs, which had been far too long to begin with, were hanging down to cover his eyes and hide away his face. He hadn't moved from that position since he'd woken up. He hadn't eaten anything at all today either, and he certainly hadn't even acknowledged Cass' presence. The child didn't even react when she spoke to him. He was certainly far different from when he had been under the influence of medicine. At least then he had spoken to her.

The guardian sighed softly, closing her eyes for the briefest of moments as she willed herself strength. Then, taking in a slow gasp of air, she turned and marched back inside her nephew's room, a bright smile already plastered on her face as she shut the door behind her noiselessly. "Hey, honey," she said, forcing her voice to be cheerful and upbeat. Hiro's eyes flickered over her way, but as soon as she caught the faintest glimpse of their brown, they were gone once more. The woman wilted slightly under the silent rejection, but she struggled on anyway. "…The doctor said that we can leave soon. And go home. …Isn't that great?"

Hiro didn't reply; he just curled down tighter into himself.

Cass cleared her throat, turning and going over to the window. Up until this point, she had kept the blinds covered and closed, in the attempt to allow Hiro the rest that he probably needed. But now, she grabbed the cord and pulled down, unveiling the window and letting in the afternoon light. It spilled over the rumpled Hospital sheets that were drawn up snugly to her nephew's chin, and it seemed to add a touch of light to the room, which, before now, had seemed dim and desolate. "I bet it'll be nice to get back home," she went on cheerily. "After all, you haven't been home in so long. I hope you don't mind, but I put up the Christmas decorations already around the café. Your friends helped a lot with that part."

There was a bout of silence, and then Hiro gave out a small mumble.

Cass perked, a smile coming over her face as she leaned a little closer. "What was that?" she asked, trying hard not to show her excitement too obviously. But it was difficult— this was one of the first few times that her nephew had actually spoken to her. An entire three days had passed, and there had been only noncommittal phrases sent here and there. True that it was less than what she had been hoping for when she thought of finding her lost nephew, but at this point she would take anything at all. "What'd you say?"

Hiro paused, bringing a hand up from underneath the covers to run it through his hair. And against himself, a small grimace passed over his face. His voice was flat and cold when he replied. "They're not my friends." Aunt Cass stiffened with a hint of surprise, but Hiro's back was to the woman by now. He was oblivious as her face creased over in shock, and he was just as unaware of the small hint of anger that flashed through the back of her eyes. The guardian opened her mouth to reply, searching for something she could say that would be adequate. And thankfully, by the time she landed on something appropriate enough, the sense of indignancy that had bubbled forward was pushed aside. If her tone was laced with irritation and anger, then she would get nowhere; she was hardly getting anywhere now as it was.

So she took a deep breath and paused a moment before answering. "Don't say that, Hiro," she admonished, careful to keep her voice gentle at the same time. "They were very concerned for you the entire time that you were gone. I could hardly keep them out of the house, they were so anxious to see whether or not you were okay." She frowned, watching Hiro anxiously. But her nephew still refused to move. "They, um…they wanted to come and visit you when I called them all to tell them we were here," she ventured slowly. "But…"

But Hiro had made it very clear: no visitors. The staff was unable to allow people inside to see the patient if the client states explicitly that they were opposed to it. And that had been one of the first things that Hiro had said when he got out of his drug-induced haze. No visitors. It had been a painful phone call to make to the other kids, who had been so elated when Cass had made it known that Hiro was safe. It was close to a slap in the face for the kids who, up until this point, had done absolutely everything for Cass' cause. And now they weren't even able to say 'hi' to her nephew.

She bit down on her lower lip and shook her head. "You really should try and see them, honey," she encouraged a little awkwardly. "They were very concerned for you. And they were really upset when they found out they weren't allowed to come in to visit. You know? Maybe…maybe you could let them visit for just a little bit? Before we leave to go back home?" She paused, waiting for the boy to reply, but once again she was refused any type of response. Sighing softly underneath her breath, Cass tried again for what felt like the millionth time. "Or maybe we can go home and have them all over for dinner? They wouldn't have to stay long— just enough for you to see that maybe it's possible to—"

Hiro turned quickly, his eyes narrowed as he twisted back to glare over Cass' way. The woman's mouth immediately shut as her nephew threw her the icy glower, a shocked and all-around hurt expression overcoming her own features. The boy's words were harsh and acidic, and as they clashed against her ears, the guardian had to force herself not to flinch away. "They're _not_ my friends," he spat, his right hand clenching into a fist as his sheets wrinkled inwards. Cass started to open her mouth, but Hiro was sweeping on before she possibly could. "They're_not_ my friends, and I _don't_ want to talk to them. I don't even want to see them." His words were thin and separated, as if he was coaching a young child on something simplistic that should have been easy to understand. "At all. Okay?"

Cass wilted visibly, her shoulders drooping as the forced smile plastered across her face dissipated. Hurt clouded over her eyes, and she bit down on her lower lip with a small nod. "…Okay," she murmured, the singular word barely above a whisper. "I was just trying to…never mind. I guess you don't have to see them if you don't want to. Right now, anyway."

However the boy's glare was not stifled in the slightest. "I don't see why it took you so long to realize that," he growled, turning over and curling up on the bed so that his back was to her once more. "You've been talking about them ever since I got up. Just _stop_, okay? They aren't my friends. They were _his_. So just drop it." He didn't even say Tadashi's name out loud, Cass realized, a frown creasing itself over her face as she watched her nephew anxiously. Could he not even manage to say the name anymore? A pang blossomed quickly in the center of her chest, but she tried to ignore it as best she could.

She looked down, wringing her hands together nervously. "…Do you want to talk about things?" she asked, not daring to make her voice anything but a mumble. "About…where you were? Or what you were doing?" The doctors hadn't found it imperative to investigate, and when approached by the police, Cass told them that their services probably weren't need anymore. The wounds lining up and down Hiro's arms had been self-inflicted, the doctors had said. With what exactly, they didn't know, but as they were treating the infection that had already been set in, and when they didn't see anything else amiss with the gashes, they deemed that it was a detail that wasn't needed in the long run. In fact, the doctors were unconcerned with anything else that had happened really. They were just treating a patient during the duration of their stay. They weren't like Cass, who had to follow this very specific patient home and take care of them there.

The reply was the expected one. "No." Concise, curt, and clear. And icier than plunging straight into the ocean in the winter.

"You know how I feel about this," Cass said, closing her eyes as she forced herself to press further. "I can't take care of you if I have no idea what—"

"Then don't take care of me," Hiro said flatly, cutting her off. Still, he refused to turn back and look at her. "I don't need your help. I was doing fine before you tried 'helping' me."

Cass' jaw locked backwards. Her fingers curled down, digging their nails into her arms as a stroke of anger flashed across her, quick as a whip. "I suppose that's why we're here now?" she snapped, her voice suddenly turning sharp as she lost control of herself for the briefest of moments. Hiro didn't reply, but the woman could have sworn that she saw her child stiffen underneath the sheets. "That's why I've been standing in a Hospital room for the past two days? That's why your face has been all over the news these past two weeks? That's why you woke up last night in a panic yelling? Because you've been 'doing fine?'" She paused briefly, nearly shaking. And she took in a sharp, quick breath before going on. "Hiro, honey, I realize that you think you know best, but you _have_to see by now that maybe that isn't true? And I can only help if you let me. And if you tell me what's been happening."

"I never asked for your help," Hiro threw over his shoulder, glaring holes in the wall now.

"You don't have to, baby," Cass struggled along weakly. Her voice was losing its fire now, and the brief bout of anger that was brought upon by the retort was slowly ebbing away. "You don't have to _ask_ for help to get it. You just have to let it happen. That's what family is for…you know? I just wanna be there for you, honey. It's what I've been saying this entire time. I'm through with the lies. Alright? I'm sick of them. How about we stop lying to each other? We can go home and start fresh. Christmas is coming soon, and then…maybe things will look a little brighter?"

Hiro didn't answer.

Cass sighed, biting down her lip and trying to force herself not to blink. Water was building up in her eyes, and any excess pressure would cause it all to overflow— which wasn't something she needed at the moment. Instead she turned and went over to the corner, taking a seat on the plush armchair situated there. She crossed her arms tightly over herself and held them there, as if she was hugging herself, or trying to warm herself up from a sudden chill. She didn't turn and try and wriggle out an answer from her nephew— she had learned the past few days that such an attempt would just prove pointless.

Instead she just crossed her legs, turning over so that she could stare at the unmoving shape Hiro made underneath the sheets. The woman's eyes were filled with indescribable sorrow as she gaze at the boy that used to love to laugh and run and play and shout. And though Hiro must have been wise to the fact that his aunt was staring at him, he was stubborn in not moving an inch. The atmosphere was heavy and weighted— the tension could have been sliced through with a knife.

And it was impossible to breathe around the words that were going unspoken.

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They got home later than anticipated. Or at least it felt later. With being as dead inside the thick of winter as they were, the sun started to set around 4:00 P.M., which meant that by the time Cass unlocked the door of the bakery, the lights were switched on immediately just so they could see where they were going. And once she unlocked the door in order to get in, Cass turned quickly to lock it behind her for the night. It was far too late to open the bakery to the public, and she was more than sure that if any Regulars came in, they would immediately demand to see Hiro. She had to get her nephew settled back in; overwhelming him would be detrimental to that goal.

She turned with a weary sigh and deposited her purse on the nearest table, reaching up to run a hand through her hair. Nothing sounded better than a shower at this very moment. And being able to sleep in her own bed rather than that overstuffed chair situated in the corner of the patient room. Plans for executing just those things began to construct themselves in her mind, and she tried to remember whether or not she had remembered to buy shampoo when she ran out.

However, upon opening her eyes after giving a stretch, Cass' thought process was sidetracked. She straightened, and her expression sobered as her eyes fell upon Hiro. Her nephew had been handed back his clothes after being released from the ICU, so rather than wearing the Hospital's scrubs, he was back inside of a sweatshirt and jeans. They had been scrubbed and cleaned by a very willing and kind nurse, who had responded to Cass' bubbling 'thank-you's that "it was no trouble at all." Though it must have been, with the blood that had been caked so far into the sleeves. You could hardly tell that it had been tarnished in such a way after such an in-depth scrub. Cass knew distinctly that that was not the same outfit that Hiro had left in. Or at least, it was not the same jacket. But, just like everything else, Hiro had acted as if he hadn't heard when she asked about it.

Hiro was also fitted in a pair of crutches. With his broken ankle, and the very large, very heavy boot that had been casted over his foot, the doctors had refused to let him leave without assistance in walking. He had objected at first, or at least showed a sense of contempt when he was issued the pair of crutches. And it was obvious that utilizing them was more than a little awkward for the boy, who limped severely into the bakery in a gait that resembled a baby deer's that was just beginning to test out their legs. Cass had considered trying to offer some kind of help to the teen, but she was wise and kept her mouth shut. Just watching as he hobbled further into the bakery.

But now the boy was still. He had limped all the way over to the cash register, balancing on his crutches clumsily as he kept his injured leg off the ground. He hadn't said a single word as he stopped by the counter, and, his knuckles white with the amount of force he was gripping the sticks with, Hiro turned and looked down at the small straw dispenser that was situated near the cups. It was the same little contraption that he had made when he was very young. And years later, it was still in prime working condition. Cass remembered the scene she had revisited during the weeks when the child was gone, remembering how Hiro and Tadashi would often break out into wrapper wars, breaking off from their chores to see who could hit the other the most times with straw wrappers. And, feeling a small pang of nervousness, Cass wondered whether or not Hiro was thinking about the same thing.

Something flashed in the back of the boy's eyes, the teenager blinking as he leaned over to press down on the small lever. He watched intently as a straw made its appearance, dropping down from inside the miniature device. It was caught on the lower platform just as Hiro had designed it to work, and teenager paused, as if he was just now witnessing how such a contraption functioned. One hand unclenched from its crutch and weaved over, as if the kid was going to grab up the small thing. But he stopped halfway, remembering himself as he quickly reached back down to regain his grip on the crutch, righting his balance as he started to fall to the side, off-tip. He ducked his head and looked away from the thing, closing his eyes as his jaw clenched backwards in a sense of some kind of disappointment. Cass watched silently, and noticed, when he opened his eyes, how desolate he looked. How distant his eyes were as the kid looked down at himself. At the crutches and the wrapped arms and the booted ankle.

It seemed like there was a million things that the boy wished to say. Yet, still, he did not utter a single one.

Cass watched him, carefully noting every little movement the boy made. And once he fell still again, she cleared her throat very softly. "I'd imagine that you'd want to take a shower, huh?" she asked, pointedly making sure that her voice was friendly as she offered a bridge between them. "And it'll be really good to sleep in your own bed. I made it a couple of days ago— I was actually going to wash your sheets, when…" she trailed off, pursing her lips before starting over. "But I'm sure that it'll be just as good. Or maybe you're not tired? You've been lying in bed for days, after all. Maybe…you'd wanna go and do something? Bowling is always fun. And nobody's ever there on the weeknights." Quickly, she looked at his crutches and cursed herself mentally. "Or…a movie? Maybe? I've got popcorn. We could pop something in upstairs." She was rambling and she knew that very clearly. But once she started it was difficult to stop, especially in a situation such as this.

Hiro turned, looking over at the display window as his eyes flittered over the pastries lined there. They were probably going stale by now, after Cass had been gone so long at the Hospital. She tried to make a mental note that maybe it would be wise to make new ones later when she had the time. Hiro's eyes seemed thoughtful as he gazed at the arrangement, and at first, Cass began to feel hopeful that maybe he was going to ask for one. He hadn't eaten very much at all these past few days, and whatever he had gotten down was pretty much forced into him by the working staff.

And of course she couldn't even begin to guess what it's been like the entire duration of when he was gone. She had no idea whether he had eaten at all while he was gone, yet going by the way he had looked when he had first gotten into the Hospital, it couldn't have been a lot. But the brief hope that he might get something down, died in her chest as Hiro just turned away from the glassed case, his eyes dulling over again as he shrugged. "No," he said carelessly. "I'm tired. I think I just want to go to sleep."

She frowned. "You don't even want to shower?"

He shook his head again. "No. I'm just really tired."

He had been sleeping through these past three days. The thought entered Cass' mind with a fresh wave of worry. How could Hiro possibly be sleeping this much? She opened her mouth to ask, but she decided that it would probably be better if she didn't. Instead, when the boy turned and started limping for the steps, Cass called out for him to stop. And thankfully, for once, he listened. The guardian turned quickly, weaving behind the counter and stretching up so that she could reach one of the many cabinets lining the walls. Hiro twisted around, watching with a dull expression as Cass was forced to get up onto her toes.

The woman rummaged for a moment or two more, grimacing from the strain. Sometimes she forgot how short she was, until she tried to do things like this. But after a while she finally managed to grasp what she was aiming for. Her fingers wrapped around the smooth bottle, and she dropped back down into her hips, armed with yet another forceful smile once she headed back to where Hiro was standing. The teenager's eyes flickered from his aunt, to the bottle she held in her hands, and then to the cabinet where she had retrieved the thing. But whatever thought process he must have been trying to follow was cut through as Cass came to a stop in front of him.

"You only have to take one," she said brightly, as if she was holding a cookie in her hand rather than a small pill. Hiro did not move or speak, only looking down at the tablet with an apathetic look. And once he did not react, Cass cleared her throat and tried again, her voice a touch sterner now. "Come on, honey. It's just one little swallow; you can do that much, right? The therapist said that it'll help you get a clearer head. …I've actually set up another appointment with her on Friday." Hiro stiffened at this, but Cass tried not to notice. "So you need to start taking these before then."

"Why?" Hiro asked shallowly.

"Because I told that you need to," Cass said, forcing herself to grow harsher. She remembered what Stapleton had told her before. Sometimes it's not the kids that have the hardest times— it's the parents. And…well, so far this hadn't been much of a picnic. She had to start leaning into it all rather than shying away, and that was exactly what she was attempting to do. "And I know what's better for you right now. You aren't able to make decisions for yourself; you've shown that much." Hiro's eyes narrowed down into a glare. The wistful kind of look that he had had when he was fiddling with the straw dispenser no seemed miles away. "I tried to give you a lot of chances to show that you knew what was best for yourself. And every time, you've just proven that you can't manage it. So now I'm telling you to eat this pill." Cass reaffirmed.

"I don't want to," Hiro replied, his voice raising into a stern tone as well, as if he was mocking her.

Cass drew herself up, taking in a slow inhale and closing her eyes briefly. And when she recovered, she somehow managed to stay resolute and collected. "And _I_ don't want to watch you waste away like this," she enunciated. "So you don't have a choice. Do you understand me?" Her voice sharpened at this, and Hiro's face began to fall. And it pained her all the more. You could ask any Regular that came into the bakery, and they would be able to provide the same information: Aunt Cass rarely ever yelled at her boys. Heck, even when Hiro and Tadashi had been arrested for gambling, she had only yelled for a few minutes. And even then, she was unable to keep out the shouted outburst of 'I love you!' She was never the strictest of parents at all. Which was why it was so striking when she did manage to get angry enough to do such a thing.

Hiro took a small step backwards with his crutches, glaring at Cass hotly.

But the movement did not help at all. It just worked her past the point of no return. Looking at the boy in front of her, she was just reminded of the contrast that was now held. That this boy in front of her, the sickly, tired, exhausted boy with his arms bandaged tightly to prevent him from opening up his wounds and bleeding out a second time, was not the boy that had once been hers. The boy that she had kissed goodnight and hugged on Graduation Day and loved unconditionally with all her heart. And before she could stop herself, she was jabbing the tablet closer to the boy, her voice raising in volume as she found herself shouting. "Hiro Hamada!" she yelled, her voice causing Hiro to jerk backwards, as if he was slapped across the face. "I _said_that you're going to do as I asked!"

Silence clogged up the air, and the yell seemed to echo and bounce off the walls of the café. Hiro was stiff and rigid, hurt and anger battling between themselves for the dominant emotion on his face. At first he made no move at all, and Cass slowly became under the disbelieving impression that he would still refuse her. But after a second he stepped forward, reaching over and snatching the small capsule out of her palm. And as he fell back and held the thing in his own hand, Cass tried to reach inside of herself and feel a sense of triumph that she had managed this feat. But she only felt hollow.

Hiro's gaze was pointed down, the boy studying the small pill that he now had in his grasp. His expression was still pinched with anger, and for a long moment or two, he didn't say anything. He just stared down at the small indentions and numbers etched into the pill's surface, as if trying to decipher what they were there for and what they did. Cass started to feel an oncoming sense of guilt, and, reaching around to cross her arms over her chest, she started to wonder whether or not she could apologize. But to her surprise, Hiro was first to speak. "…You know when I sang you that song?" he asked suddenly, his voice guarded.

Cass blinked rapidly, blindsided. "...Song?" she repeated. "What song?"

"When I was little," Hiro said, continuing to speak off-handedly. "For Mother's Day."

She fell silent for a short moment, reaching back for a memory that corresponded. But it didn't take long at all to realize what her nephew was talking about. How could she forget? She still had the music box that he had given her that day— she had listened to it a few times while he was gone. And the song had been the best part of the party. A smile twitched the sides of her lips upwards, and a warm burst of affection blossomed in her chest. She gave a small nod. "Of course I do," she said, her voice slowly turning fond. "I remember."

Silence again.

And when Hiro spoke once more, his voice nearly made Aunt Cass reel backwards. It was cut and dry, harsh enough to leave a bruise and devoid of any and all warmth. He looked up and fixed his aunt with a look that a stranger would give someone who just came up and punched them square in the jaw for absolutely no reason. "Yeah," he spat. His voice was nothing more than a growl, but from the reaction that was evoked from the woman across from him, he might as well have been screaming as loud as humanely possible. He locked his jaw backwards, his hand curling into a shaking fist as he turned for the steps a second time. "…I remember it too." The words held no wistfulness or nostalgia. Rather they were scathing and hurtful. As if…

Cass remained where she was, her eyes widened and overcome with grief as Hiro stormed up the stairway. She tried to open her mouth and call him back, but she couldn't seem to breathe right. And in hindsight, he probably would have ignored her entirely. So she was left just standing still, stricken and confused. She couldn't move, feeling cold, as if every little bit of warmth had been sucked away from her. 'It'll get better.' her inner voice consoled her gently. 'You gave him the medicine. He'll clear up. Just give him a few more days of it, and then everything will turn out okay.'

But it was so _hard_. It was getting _impossible_. The woman ducked her head and pressed the palm of her hand flush against her forehead. She wished for nothing more than things to work out and for them to be okay. But…how long would it take? Weeks of this? She had never yelled at Hiro that harshly— it left her with a bitter taste in her mouth and a sickening churning in her stomach. And she certainly didn't want Hiro regretting the relationship that they had once had what seemed like ages ago. But that seemed to be where the lines were drawing themselves now.

If this was what it took to get that smile back onto Hiro's face, then she could do it. She would hate herself every second of it and keep herself up at night, but if that was what would get Hiro back up onto his feet…if that was what it took to get the bandages off of his arms and ensure that there would be no additional ones to replace them, then she would go through with it as best she could. She would do anything for her nephew in a heartbeat.

But that was just it. The uncertainty. The fact that she _didn't_ know how this would turn out. She didn't know whether or not it would help Hiro, or if all of this would just make it worse.

And even if it did end up helping her nephew, would it be at all possible to erase those lines that had been drawn in between them?

Or, by that time, would they be far too deep?

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A/N: Whew! It's always so refreshing to end a nineteen-page chapter. I hope you liked it! And I hope that I can hear from you about it! I'm departing tomorrow for Disney World for two weeks, actually, so any update that I'll get in between there will be tight and questionable. Reviews or feedback would certainly help to motivate me towards drafting up a new chapter, and it'll certainly be interesting to think of an update for this kind of story while down in Magic Kingdom CX

Anyway thank you for all the reviews! I love hearing feedback some every single one of you and I pray that I get to hear even more! Next chapter is HUGE people! I'm so pumped to write it! It's the turning point of the story. And get this: **IT'S WHEN THE STORY ACTUALLY BEGINS**. Yup, none of this really is the story. It's still kinda setting it up. So next chapter will be the _very beginning_ of what I started out wanting to write! I hope you guys are excited! And I hope that I can hear a bunch of feedback so I can start cranking out chapter nine sooner rather than later!

By the way. I do not own The Bachelor. I just have a lot of feelings :3


	9. Chapter 9

A/N: I met Hiro while I was in Disneyworld! At first I wasn't sure whether or not I could actually interact with him, but it turned out that the reason people were sort of ignoring him was just because Baymax was more 'interesting' to them? So he was so shocked when I asked for a hug, and he was really excited when I wanted to talk to him instead. He complimented me on my hair, and pointed at my treble clef necklace and asked if I liked music and if I played an instrument. I told him trumpet, and he smiled really big and said: "Oh geez! Don't tell Baymax! He wants to play trumpet so bad! But, you know, you kinda need a mouth to play the trumpet!"

And then we somehow got into a game of hide-and-seek with Baymax. My little sister and Hiro were just sitting out in the open curled up by one another and Baymax was looking everywhere for them. My baby sister was getting a kick out of all of it, and Hiro looked up at me and looked all smug and goes: "We aren't even trying that hard!"

He called me sweetie and he said that he loved my pin collection I was wearing.

I guess, with this long author's note, I am just getting to _one singular point_.

I feel guilty, boys and girls. Dang I'm gonna feel like a piece of crap writing this chapter. And I hope you feel just a little smidge of the guilt I have by the end of this. Because it's palpable, kids. It's like a living organism right now. I've named it Charlie.

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Music played overhead— a light and airy tune that bounced and twirled and created inside of those listening a sense of peaceful happiness. The smells of every kind of good food imaginable – though mostly it had to have been fried – seemed to be just as alive as it weaved its way tantalizingly through the air. Children could be heard every which way; some were crying or pleading for a stuffed animal or another bucket of cotton candy. Some were shrieking with glee, and others with irritation or exhaustion. It was going on about nine by now, and most of the kids were really getting to their breaking points. You could only keep your kids going for so long before they decided that enough was enough for the day. And when such a point was decided, things pretty much went into a downward spiral.

Cass had taken the kids out of school upon hearing that there was a travelling fair near their city, and although she had the boys missing about three days in total, and although the trip out here had been long and tedious, it was worth it. The kids had been getting along so well – not that they really never did – and she was more than sure that her two boys could miss an entire month of their education and still be the smartest kids in their classrooms. The thought made the woman smile, and she turned back to look over her shoulder at the pair. And sure enough, they were just as they had been the entire day.

Tadashi, loyal and ever the one to pick up the slack where it had slipped Cass' mind, was guiding his little brother along as usual. The elder brother was holding tight to the little kid's, and every so often he would turn and tug his little brother closer before he could run into someone. Hiro gave out a chirp of complaint every so often, rolling his eyes at the 'ridiculous' need that Tadashi had to hold his hand. But the child's attention was always snatched away to something else before he could possibly get into actually feeling a form of resentment. "Aunt Cass!" he shrieked, the small boy reaching over to point in a random direction. "Aunt Cass! Aunt Cass! I wanna ride that one!"

Cass turned to follow where the child was indicating. And she perked slightly as her eyes landed on a rather high-looking attraction. It was the one where you were to stand against the wall and be spun around in all different directions. Certainly the ride was a well-known favorite— Cass had many of her own treasured memories as a kid from when she had taken part in things like the Tilt-A-Whirl. She considered it briefly for a minute, and then she turned, preparing herself to call back to her nephew and offer him an answer.

But Tadashi beat her to it. "Hiro, you're too little," he said, turning and looking from his brother to the ride. Cass frowned and reflected, but realized that Tadashi was probably right— she hadn't even paused to think about something like that. "You won't be allowed to ride that thing; they wouldn't let you on. And besides, you just ate something like ten minutes ago. If you went on a ride like that you would throw everything back up and Aunt Cass doesn't wanna deal with any of that. I'm sure you wouldn't either."

Hiro's face puckered into a pout. "I'm tall!" he objected in a shrill manner, looking down at himself with a pursed expression. The indignant squawk brought a small smile to Cass' face, probably against her better judgment. "I'm super tall! I'm almost up to your shoulder!"

Tadashi only rolled his eyes. "Hiro, you are nowhere near my shoulder."

"I am _so_ near your shoulder." The little kid turned, getting up on the tips of his toes in the effort to reach up and poke his older brother's right shoulder. "There. I touched it," he said, triumph laced through every inch of his high voice. However no more than a minute had passed before he began complaining again. "I wanna ride that ride!" he whined, Cass withholding her own roll of the eyes before turning back around to look where she was going. "I'm tall! And I won't throw up! I promise! Just let me ride it!"

Maybe they were nearing their own breaking point, Cass thought to herself. Or at least Hiro might be nearing it. Maybe it wouldn't be too bad of an idea to double back to the hotel and be done for the night. It was getting very late for little kids if she was being honest with herself. And if the boys weren't that tired, they could certainly spend a few hours running around the indoor pool instead. It would be a much better alternative to traipsing around listening to Hiro get more and more upset. Smart as he was, he was still less than seven years old. He didn't run on batteries.

However no sooner had the thought crossed her mind, did she blink, her forehead creasing slightly. Something…seemed wrong. Was it the clouds in the sky; had they always been there? Had there always been so many people around here? Was her watch wrong? Each possibility entered her mind, and yet nothing seemed to add up. She didn't think that anything had changed— but something seemed off. Or at least changed. There was a weird feeling in the pit of her stomach, and the woman stiffened entirely as Hiro suddenly gave out another shout. "Aunt Cass! Aunt Cass!"

Something had indeed changed in the little boy's voice. He sounded scared. "Aunt Cass!" The guardian spun around immediately, her eyes landing on her little boy to realize that he was suddenly alone. Tadashi had disappeared from where he stood at Hiro's side, and he was now nowhere to be seen whatsoever. The six-year-old's brown eyes were panicked and stricken where he stood, and his voice was even more so as he let out yet another cry. "Aunt Cass, Tadashi's gone!" he shrieked, turning and looking every which way for his older brother. "Tadashi's gone! He just disappeared! I-I don't know where he went! Aunt Cass, Tadashi's gone!"

Whirling around with wide eyes, Cass started to scan the thick crowd at once as she tried to pick out the form of her eldest nephew. But the throng was too thick— looking for one specific person was like trying to sort out a needle from a haystack. "Okay, okay!" she shushed immediately, walking the few steps it took to get back to her little boy. Cass leaned down, putting her hands on either of his shoulders as she continued to look every which way. "Okay, calm down honey. He's probably around here somewhere." She narrowed her eyes— this wasn't like Tadashi. Not at all. The eldest of the Hamada brothers was always considered the most responsible. She could picture this happening with Hiro, yes, for sure. But Tadashi? He would never wander off.

To her surprise, Hiro started to resist her, pulling forward as she was forced to increase her grip on the little boy's shoulders. Yet in response to this, he only gave out another loud yell. "Let go!" he yelled, trying to wriggle out of her hold. "We have to find Tadashi! Come on! He's lost! He's probably wondering where we are! We gotta get back to Tadashi! Let go, Aunt Cass! Let go!"

"Hey now! C'mon, honey!" Cass admonished gently, struggling to pull him closer. "Let's just think this through, okay?" She turned, looking up and scanning through the people around her a second time. Her eyes were narrowed deep in thought, and she struggled to remember what Tadashi had been wearing before now. Had he been wearing his hat, or did he leave that in the hotel room today? "Do you remember what your brother was wearing?" she asked, looking from one person to another. Suddenly it seemed to have gotten much more crowded— she could hardly see a foot in front of herself before a wall of people cut off her vision.

"Maybe we could go find a worker," Cass said softly, almost to herself, though she was sure that Hiro was paying attention. …Hiro _was_paying attention…right? "Did you hear me, sweetie?" she asked, beginning to look down at her nephew with a worried stare. "Maybe we can find someone who can find a way to—" She froze, her limbs locking together as she felt horror root itself into the pit of her stomach. Hiro was gone. Her hands flew up to either side of her head, the woman stumbling backwards before turning in a tightly-knit circle. Her heart immediately picked up and began to ram itself against her ribcage. Where did he go!? He just vanished! "Hiro?" she gasped sharply, her eyes dilating in fear as she spun and staggered. People that passed by her looked oddly her way; she could feel every stare going over to burn itself through her clothes. But she was numb to it. "Hiro!" she screamed.

Tadashi getting lost— that was fine. He was thirteen, and a very responsible thirteen-year-old at that. He would have no trouble finding his way back to them. But Hiro? Hiro had just turned six a few months ago. He couldn't even reach Tadashi's shoulder without having to get up onto his toes. The thought of him running around – as smart as he was – only stabbed fear further into her gut, and the woman took in a short gasp of air before yelling out again. "Hiro!" she shouted, her throat beginning to ache by now. "Hiro! Hiro, come back! Where did you go?"

She stiffened as a shout echoed its way over to her. Hiro's voice was raised into a yell as well, but to her horror, it sounded suddenly much farther away than she had thought he could possibly have gone. "Tadashi!" He wasn't even paying attention to her— he was still looking for his brother. "Tadashi! Where'd you go? Tadashi! Come back!"

Cass snapped. She shoved herself forward, barging abruptly through the people around her as she started to race for the direction in which the voice had come from. "Hiro!" she yelled, not even pausing to feel a sense of regret as she shoved and pushed through people walking around her. "Hiro! Hiro, come back!" She whirled in a small circle, her hands pressing against her head as she tried to fight her rising panic. Where on earth _was_ he? "Hiro!" she screamed, nearly shaking with anxiety. She thought of kidnappers, or people that could easily harm her little boy. He still cried when he got paper cuts at school! "Hiro!"

"Tadashi!" Hiro yelled, still oblivious. He sounded scared. Lost. He was so little and tiny. Where did he go? "Tadashi! Where are you!?" His voice seemed to come from a different direction every time she heard him yell. First he was to the left, then he was over to the right. Her mind was reeling, and every time she turned to rush on one way, he seemed to double back to the other. The woman's mind was jarred and her nerves were completely shot. Where had her nephew gone? Where had either of them gone? It always seemed as if no matter where she turned, there was always a wall of people to cut her off.

She was in a confusing maze, and she felt completely lost.

"Hiro!" She screamed out again, starting to feel sick to her stomach and dizzy.

"Tadashi!" Hiro cried, his voice heightened and plaintive.

"Hiro!"

"Tadashi, where are you?"

"Hiro, come back!"

"Tadashi!"

Cass woke in a jerking motion, her eyes red and completely bloodshot. Darkness pressed down on her on all sides, and as she turned quickly to the clock, a pang shook through her chest at the neon numbers shining back at her. It was 2:15 in the morning. The woman let out a weary sigh, dropping back down onto her pillow and closing her eyes in a small wince. Her dream flashed in the back of her mind and replayed itself over and over, though the woman struggled to wave it away. Lingering on it wasn't the wisest thing to do. But it was like a cobweb— no matter how much she seemed to swat and shake at it, it still stuck fast. But at least she was awake now.

But no sooner had the thought entered her mind, did she hesitate over it. It had seemed so real— as if she was actually walking through that small amusement park with Tadashi and Hiro trailing shortly behind. And the fear that she had felt when Hiro had disappeared from sight….it was as if she was actually experiencing it. She felt in the moment; and she still did. She felt the lingering sense of fear that seemed alive underneath her skin. And the woman could still hear Hiro's voice, raised in a shriek that was clenched with alarm and tension. It was like it was haunting her even in the waking world. It was like it was echoing through her own home.

It was…

Cass sat bolt upright, horror caving in over her heart. It was. Falling silent and looking up stiffly, Cass listened as her jaw locked backwards tightly. And sure enough, she could hear it. A shout. Screaming. Hiro was screaming. The sound was distant, of course; it was coming from upstairs. But as soon as the dots clicked together in her mind, the woman was moving. Cass threw the covers off of herself, jumping out of bed in a haphazard fashion as she tripped and stumbled. Her head had been foggy with sleep just a few seconds before, but the haze was gone in an instant. "Hiro?" she yelled, throwing open her door and rushing down the hall for the stairs. "Hiro, what's wrong!?"

She took the steps three at a time, she was moving so fast. Fear gave her speed, and in no time at all she was rushing into the landing upstairs. Her eyes immediately fell onto Hiro, who was still in bed. The boy was curled up on his right side, his entire form shaking from head to toe under the covers. His eyes were closed tightly, and every so often he would tense, a small shriek or scream being wrenched out from his mouth to be slightly muffled by the mattress. Though he was asleep, the sound was still blood-curdling, and Aunt Cass rushed forward at once, panic filling every inch of her as she skidded to a stop at his bedside.

At once, her thought flew to the wounds on his arms. Had he reopened them during the night? She turned and tried to see, but he was curled up too tightly for her to do anything of the sort. Gnawing down hard on her bottom lip, the woman reached over, her touch gentle but firm as she grabbed hold of her nephew's shoulder. "Hiro?" she demanded, her voice tight and clenched in several places. "Hiro? Hiro, are you awake?" She grimaced deeply as the boy let out another incoherent shriek, thrashing now as she grabbed at him. "Hiro!" Her voice raised into a sharp yell. "Hiro, wake up! You're dreaming!"

Hiro gave another screech, successfully jerking out of Cass' grip this time. The woman tensed, her eyes widening briefly before she lurched, grabbing at her nephew and forcibly turning him so that he was on his back. Usually such a feat would take effort; but with the amount of weight the boy had lost, and how gaunt and malnourished he was, unfortunately it took little to no effort at all. Quickly Cass turned and leaned over her nephew, grabbing both of his shoulders now and shaking him as hard as she could.

It took a few seconds before she was able to jar him awake. Hiro gasped sharply, his entire body tensing as his eyes snapped open. Cass leaned back, reluctantly letting go of her nephew as her hands went instead to clasp nervously at her chest. "Hiro, are you awake?" she hedged cautiously, watching him with a fretful gaze. The boy's eyes looked half-lidded and vacant even when they opened, though he still struggled and thrashed, making her wonder if he was even aware of what was happening. "Are you awake, honey?" she asked, her eyebrows knitting together. "Can you hear me?"

She went rigid as, to her shock, he leaned over, reaching out and scrabbling for a hold on her arm. "It's— I'm—" he was fumbling over himself, as if he had far too many thoughts to voice at once. His voice was thick and slurred, incoherent in a way, though if Cass concentrated, she could make sense of individual words. "Tadashi." The name was gasped out as if the young child was actually in pain, and even though his eyes were vacant and confused, they gleamed with a certain kind of agony there as well. One that caused Cass' heart to fold in on itself not for the first time. "Tadashi's— ran— I-I tried to stop him, I really did. He just— I couldn't— Tadashi's gone. We have to get him." He was jerking and pulling by now, and Cass was forced to return her hold on her nephew, leaning over so that she could push his shoulders down into the mattress and keep him rooted.

"Hiro, honey, please calm down," Cass said, wilted as she watched her nephew flounder and heave for air. "You were dreaming, okay? It was just a nightmare. You need to calm down and breathe; can you do that for me? Please calm down." Hiro wasn't listening; the boy was too busy rambling, the guardian only being able to pick out a few words at a time by now. His struggles were getting weaker, and whatever kind of light that was in his eyes before was starting to dim— he was falling back asleep. "You need to go back to sleep," Cass consoled gently. "Just go back to sleep, sweetie."

Hiro's eyes closed, and a crease came over his forehead. The boy crumpled, and Cass could have sworn that she could see the faintest trail of a tear mark its way down the side of his face. "Tadashi's…Tadashi's…"

"Tadashi is fine." Cass found herself lying before she could possibly stop herself. But could she really be blamed for such a thing? It was tearing her apart to see him like this. If he was half-awake anyway, would he even remember in the first place? "Tadashi is perfectly fine, honey, please go back to sleep." She reluctantly took her arms back to herself, though she did so slowly, and made sure that Hiro would not start jerking or flailing all over again. "You just had a little nightmare, is all. Go back to sleep, baby. It'll all look better in the morning, okay?"

She leaned back, biting down on her lip before turning and starting to fix the sheets, righting the comforter and tucking it back underneath her nephew's chin. They had been rumpled before, and a few moments of silence and a tense sort of peace filled the atmosphere as she fiddled with the blankets. Hiro turned and curled away from her, a position that, ever since the Hospital, she was getting tragically used to. And then, in barely the most coherent of mumbles, Hiro gave a small whisper, his voice broken and chipped away. "I tried to save him."

Cass straightened. She blinked, watching her nephew with an expression of someone who was watching someone slowly die and suffer. But no sooner had the whisper broken through the silence in the air did she hear a small, muffled snoring pick up. He had fallen back asleep. And numbly, Cass turned and looked over at the other end of the room, to the empty bed and the dusty shelves behind it. A space devoid of life entirely.

The hat was still missing. Hiro must still have it somewhere.

A lump filled her throat, and her gaze flickered back down to the little boy, who had fallen unconscious again. Water stung at her eyes, and she sniffed softly, reaching over and tucking him in tighter— just the way she had done when he was little. "…I know you did, baby," she whispered, careful not to wake him up and risk anything else that could happen. A bite of frustration hit her with the thought, and when she was finished tucking him in, the woman sniffed again, taking to just staring at her nephew as she tried to brush away tears before they could stain her cheeks.

Quickly, she shook her head. "And I'm just trying to save you."

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It was clear that this was going absolutely nowhere. Cass would have to double back and try to find a different means of getting through to him. Because Life was proving itself to be completely useless.

Usually they had a ball when Cass brought out the multi-colored board game. She remembered last time they had played it as a family— Tadashi and Hiro staged a contest to see who could have the most kids, which had led to them stacking up the tiny pieces one on top of the other once they ran out of room. And Tadashi, playfully bitter when he only had four kids and Hiro had six, kept knocking over Hiro's balancing tower every other turn. Cass had kept quiet, wanting to play a serious game yet not wanting to spoil her nephews' fun at the same time. But now she would take absolutely anything over this.

It was dead silent. Hiro had barely spoken a single word since he had been dragged out of his bed and down to the living room to play. No matter what kind of effort Cass made in terms of communication, she went either entirely ignored, or just given a small hum or two in response. Hiro's eyes were dull the entire play through, and Cass was starting to feel as if she was more or less the single thing fueling along the game. Which shouldn't have been surprising, probably, but still. Yet as the ending of the game got closer and closer, Cass grew nervous and awkward, continuously glancing over at Hiro with a small frown.

Hiro had chosen not to go to college. He had refused night school when the option was given to him. He did not celebrate when he got a pay raise. He did not trade in his house for a better one, though he lived in a shabby one-room. He didn't grin when he got married, and he certainly did not look at all happy when he got his first child. The entire game he had the same look on his face— one of pained boredom and disinterest. As if he was mentally calculating all the other things he could be doing at the moment. However, looking down at his bandaged arms, Cass reminded herself that she was not allowing Hiro to be alone anymore. Another fact that obviously dug under the child's skin.

"Where are you going to retire, Hiro?" Cass asked, forcing her voice to become upbeat again as they both neared the finish.

Hiro sighed softly through his nose, his chin resting in his hand as he looked numbly down at the table. And carelessly, he shrugged his shoulders. "I don't care," he growled, a hint of a scowl flickering over his features. Cass blinked a few times, opened her mouth to say something, but seemed to think better of it. Tight-lipped, she sat back and played the last few turns, watching with a hint of sadness as Hiro scooted his player over to the lesser retirement home. She went opposite, and cleared her throat, shifting a little bit before offering him a small smile.

"Alright, then!" she chirped, turning to her own pieces lying in front of her. "Let's see how we did, then?" She glanced over to Hiro's collection, realizing that it was considerably less than her own. It was meager and scarce, which was what happened when you don't pay attention while playing Life. But she feigned excitement for the results anyway, the woman grinning as she began to sort through her tiles. "Okay, so I've got one, two, three, four..." She was acutely aware of Hiro staring a hole through her clothes, but the woman struggled to pretend that she was ignorant to it. "…ten, eleven, twelve, thirteen, fourteen…"

Hiro ducked his head down, burying his head in his hands and digging his nails into his skull.

Cass brightened, beaming by now. "I've got twenty Life tiles!" she announced in triumph. "But now let's see how much money I have…you probably have more—"

"I lost," Hiro growled, cutting her off as he turned and started to reach for his crutches, which had been discarded on the ground next to him. Cass straightened, her smile dissipating as her nephew started the struggle to get back up to his feet. He hadn't yet had the chance to get used to maneuvering with the sticks, which caused his leave to become prolonged. Yet it took a long moment before Cass was able to speak up. Hiro had gotten up to his feet and was starting to hobble his way towards the steps when he was stopped by her voice. And, with difficulty, she tried to make herself as resolute as possible.

"Hiro, where are you going?" she demanded, her hands fisting together tightly in her lap.

The boy didn't turn from where his back was to her, yet she could tell that he stiffened considerably at the inquiry. His grip on his crutches tightened somewhat and his voice was thin when he replied, almost as if it was coming through clenched teeth. "I just want to go back up to my room," he hissed, his eyes trained on the ground. Aunt Cass refused to reply, and after a few seconds, Hiro lurched awkwardly to the side so he could turn around and face her. He was expectant as he stared at her, and Cass felt the smallest hint of guilt as his gaze held a small amount of hope inside of it.

"You should stay down here." she said softly, turning away from her nephew and busying herself with putting away the board game before she could watch his face crumple in disappointment. "We could make some cookies, maybe. Christmas is coming up— we could put in a few of your favorite movies. We've been waiting all year to pop in Christmas Vacation, haven't we?" Any other year and Hiro would have been eagerly counting the days leading up to his favorite holiday. But now there was only raw irritation in his gaze as he stared her way, his jaw quickly locking backwards at her refusal.

"You never let me be alone anymore," he snapped, his eyes narrowing into angered slits. "Aunt Cass, I'm just asking for a few hours. Ever since we've gotten back from the Hospital, I haven't had a second to myself!"

"You'll stay down here," she said, remaining as resolute as possible. Guilt clogged at her throat once the words left her mouth, but she reminded herself that her decision was not unfounded. Hiro had been missing for two weeks; not only was her concern and need to watch him justified, but it was needed as well. Fear had rooted itself into her heart as soon as she had laid eyes on her nephew's ravaged arms in the Hospital. He could have died. Her bright and bubbly nephew's heart had stopped for more than ten seconds. Letting him be alone wasn't even an option; how could she know what he would do if she wasn't keeping an eye on him? It was bad enough for the guardian to let Hiro sleep alone during the night— she was almost entirely unable to do anything more.

What would happen if she gave him an hour alone? Or even a few minutes? There were too many possibilities of harm that her nephew could inflict on himself, and as more and more piled on top of one another in her head, it only locked Aunt Cass into her opinion further. The smallest hint of losing her last remaining nephew inflicted more pain than that of a searing burn. It was better to annoy him and cause him to bristle, rather than undergo another situation like they had before.

But Hiro still looked furious. "Aunt Cass, I just want to go lay down," he said thinly.

"There's a couch right here," Cass quipped, turning and gesturing to the piece of furniture. She was almost finished putting the board game back. She was running out of options before she would be forced to meet her nephew's crestfallen gaze. "You can take a nap and then by the time you wake up, I can have some cookies out. Does that sound good?" She already knew the answer that he would give. But ever since they had gotten back from the Hospital, Hiro had eaten hardly anything. And what he did get down was in a forced and choked manner, as if it caused him physical pain to eat.

Cookies weren't exactly the healthiest of menu items, but if Hiro just ate one, she could maybe start to relax. Her nephew had lost an obscene amount of weight since Tadashi had died in the fire. His clothes seemed to get baggier and baggier on him each day, and his face was gaunt and sickly. Exhaustion was easily found on his face now, even after only an hour of activity. His health was deteriorating day by day— Cass didn't have to be a doctor to see that. Which made it all the more imperative to keep a close eye on him rather than let him wander away.

"It's too noisy down here," Hiro objected, stubborn as he scowled over her way. "Please can I just go up to my room? Just for a few hours?"

"I said no, Hiro," Cass reiterated. "I want you to stay down here."

"It's just a nap!" he yelled, his impatience spiking as he shouted. "I'm just asking for a couple of hours!" He fumed silently as he waited for Cass to say something, but when she remained silent, he gave a short huff. "I think I can take care of myself for that long!"

Cass finished placing the board game back in its respective box. She paused briefly, frustration bubbling itself in the back of her throat as her fingers lingered over the casing. But after a pause, she turned and looked up, finally managing to meet Hiro's gaze head-on. Her eyes clashed with an indignant expression filled to the brim with anger. And maybe the reaction from the boy was justified. But her voice was crisp and brittle when she replied. "Can you?"

Hiro jerked, looking hurt and offended by the jab. Yet Cass' gaze remained level and even despite the flickering change in his expression. Silence stretched between them, and Hiro obviously grew angrier as he grasped for something he could possibly say in response. Cass knew that there wasn't a lot of opportunity for something of the sort— not with where they were standing at the moment. When he finally landed on something, it was less than satisfactory, and his voice had significantly lost its fire. It was almost wilted, and it brought forward into Cass' mind the vision of a flower bending underneath its own weight. "Aunt Cass, I'm just tired," Hiro said softly, his hands clenching around his crutches.

Cass only blinked slowly, still holding his gaze. "So am I."

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Closing time was one of the most relaxing times of the day. After the crowds ebbed away and when the stars had long since blinked themselves into life, the café became quiet and peaceful. There was nothing left to do but clean up and stack chairs, which were tasks that, although mundane at times, brought a sense of quiet purpose. You could lose yourself in the wiping down of tables, and you could ponder anything you wished when you rearranged the snacks that had not been purchased previously. Sometimes you could have someone to speak to— another person to help the time pass in an even more pleasant manner. However, despite the fact that there were two people occupying the bakery at the moment, this was not the case.

Cass was busying herself as much as she could, milling around with quiet footsteps as she followed through with her nightly routine. Hiro was seated at one of the corner tables, his crutches having been tossed to the side as soon as he had sat down. Cass had requested that he stay down here for the day while the bakery was open, in the effort not only to keep watch over him, but also to try and nudge him into being a little more social again. After all, plenty of Regulars would jump with joy upon seeing him. However Cass had, once again, held a little too much hope when it came to her nephew.

Hiro had sat in the same spot all day. And, just like now, he was silent. He kept his head down, and even though he was surrounded by the aroma of food all day long, he never even sampled a slice. At one point Cass had thought that the boy had dozed off with his head on the table, but she could have been mistaken, because glancing over his way now, he still looked completely exhausted. Hiro's head was rested down, the boy looking glum and dulled as he had turned over to the side. Ever present in form, and ever unaware of actual situations, Mochi had hopped up onto the table in order to brush up against the boy a while ago, obviously pleading for attention. And by now the cat had curled up close, its eyes small slits of satisfaction as Hiro slowly stroked his hand slowly from one end of its coat to the other.

Cass could hear Mochi's purring all the way from where she stood cleaning the windows. Normally she would scold the cat for jumping up onto a table that she had just cleaned. But upon looking over, Cass' chest constricted at the sight of her nephew slouched over, his face all but pressed down into the cat's fur as he threaded his fingers through the animal's fur. He was already so upset that she had forced him down here. She didn't have it inside of herself to now shoo the cat away from her nephew.

Against herself, she wondered whether or not she should break the silence. It was oppressive and unrelenting— a force that was slowly crushing her. True that none of her efforts had profited much up until this point, but did that mean she should stop trying? As repetitive as it may be, that didn't mean she should give up, should it? The brunette paused, debating inwardly as she watched a small stream of cleaning fluid mark its way down the glass. She might as well try— there couldn't be much harm in something like that.

But she didn't get the chance.

As soon as she drew herself up and started to turn back and face her nephew, there was a rapid knocking on the door. It was fast and urgent, and at first Cass stiffened, her eyes immediately flying to Hiro out of a newfound habit. But Hiro straightened as well, not so much surprised by the knocking as he was irritated. He turned over to look out the door, and Cass followed his lead with the smallest stroke of guilt. But the feeling was quickly evaporated as she realized who was standing out on the doorstep. Jerking, Cass turned and hurriedly deposited her cleaning products on the nearest table, wiping her hands down the legs of her pants in a rushed fashion.

"Candice!" The surprised exclamation was wrenched out from Cass' mouth as soon as she opened the door. And sure enough, the woman across the threshold threw her arms into the air, squealing with delight as she invited herself in with a flourish. Skipping forward, the newcomer threw her arms around Cass with yet another girlish shriek, pulling the baker in close for a bear hug as she jumped up and down in the process. At first Cass remained still, her arms remaining at her sides as her eyes bulged with confusion. It took a few moments for her to be able to get over her mental block, the brunette giving out a reluctant giggle as she reached up to return the embrace.

Hiro watched silently from where he sat, keeping track of the exchange with undisguised befuddlement.

"It's been so long!" Candice chirped happily, finally letting go of the other as she leaned back. Cass stumbled slightly upon release, having to regain her footing before she was able to stand upright. But the newcomer just gave another cheery bounce, clapping her hands together once in a sense of excitement. "The last time I saw you was at that last reunion! Oh man, what a time that was, huh!?" Cass opened her mouth to reply, but Candice didn't seem to feel like waiting. Instead, she swept on, leaving the other to awkwardly take back whatever she had been planning on saying. "But guess what!? I was in the neighborhood on business, and you know what I remembered? That a certain old friend of mine had a cute little bakery right on this street! Isn't that funny?" Once again, Cass started to say something; but once again she was cut off. "Oh, I hope I'm not late or anything, Cassie!" Hiro raised an eyebrow at the name. "But I just really wanted to see you! It's been ages!"

"Y-Yeah, it— it's certainly been a long time!" Cass agreed, her eyes wide as she reached up to draw a hand through her hair. "Gee, I…I wasn't expecting to see you! This is great! Wow! Hi!" She gave a nervous laugh. "I can't believe you managed to find the place! We just closed about an hour ago, but don't worry about that; it's fine. We aren't doing much anyway, I was just spiffing up a bit. But no— how have you been doing? What ever happened with that uh…that stock market thing you were getting into?"

The two dissolved into a small bout of conversation. The usual pattern of 'how are you's and 'how's life's that old friends do when they haven't seen each other in a long span of time. Twittering like robins back and forth, the girls' attentions were turned solely onto the other standing across from them. A stroke of luck for Hiro, who up until this point felt as if there had been a spotlight pinned on him. This whole day had been a disaster— it had been a disaster ever since he got released from the Hospital. Being watched by Aunt Cass made him feel like he was under some kind of microscope, and he felt suffocated in the process. But…did this mean he could leave?

He turned cautiously, drawing away from Mochi to the cat's utter disappointment. Ignoring the pleading look sent his way from the animal, Hiro turned to the side and leaned down, reaching for his crutches and hoping that he could manage a quick enough getaway. Something that wasn't likely considering he had fallen nearly ten times the day prior to this one. Yet the slightest movement seemed to trigger Aunt Cass, who straightened as soon as Hiro began to stretch towards the ground. "Oh!" she shouted, her eyes clearing significantly. And Hiro immediately scowled, freezing mid-reach as a mental curse ran through his mind.

"Candice, this is Hiro," Cass introduced sweetly, turning and walking over to her nephew, despite the acidic look he threw her way. And Candice seemed just as oblivious to the stare as she bounded close after her friend, her eyes absolutely lighting up as the fell on the child in question. "Hiro, this is Candice! She's an old friend of mine— we met during school and we roomed together for a while. She's actually met you before, but you wouldn't remember that at all."

Candice beamed. "Oh my goodness!" she all but shrieked, completely ignoring the fact that Hiro winced away from the volume. "You were just a tiny little baby the last time I saw you! Oh, I held you for nearly two hours— you were such a sleepy little guy!" She stepped forward and put her hands on either of the boy's shoulders, her eyes searching his own with an eager grin. "Oh, you're so tall now! I feel so old! And geez, you're as skinny as a rail! You must have gotten those genes from your mother's side of the family." she said, turning over and sticking her tongue out over at her friend.

Cass offered a reluctant smile in return, but it was awkward and frail.

Candice was ignorant to the fact. She turned back, looking down at the ground and blinking rapidly. Her expression turned confused, and she turned to look at the heavy cast that had been fitted onto Hiro's leg. "Did you get hurt?" she asked, looking at him with something akin to concern. Hiro was vacant, staring at her blandly and trying to decide whether or not those earrings were real diamonds— because it kinda looked like she was trying too hard. Candice offered another bout of laughter. "Boys! You guys are always running around getting some kind of injury! I know my Bartholomew's broken a few bones of his own!"

What?

Seriously?

Who would name their kid Bartholomew?

Cass shifted, her apprehension starting to show more at this point. "Well you see…it's a little…it's kind of complicated because—"

Hiro stared up at Candice with a dry look. "I got hit by a car," he said flatly, annunciating each syllable harder than he needed to.

Surprise flashed through Candice's eyes. And shock went through Cass'. "Whoa, wait." Cass said, perking as her arms crossed over her chest. "You what?"

Hiro scowled and turned back to Mochi, reaching over and reverting back to petting the feline. He slouched over, pushing his nose down into Mochi's fur and feeling him vibrate as the cat began to purr once more. He dragged his hand up and down the cat's back and tried to ignore the fact that both women were now openly staring at him. Candice coughed softly, apparently feeling a touch of the awkwardness herself as Cass' expression held inside of it a hint of anger. So she moved on, turning and looking around at the bakery with pursed lips. "I really love what you've got going on here," she commented sweetly. "It looks very cute. And pretty easy to take care of."

Cass continued to stare at Hiro, as if she was waiting for her nephew to finally turn around and face her. But she was roused as Candice spoke, and she recovered quickly, her relentless smile spreading over her face once more as she gave an energetic nod. "Oh! Thank you very much!" she gushed, Hiro rolling his eyes pointedly. "Yeah, it's pretty easy I suppose. Especially when you've got help around. And it's all worth it in the end anyway, so…"

"Speaking of help!" Candice chirped. Immediately Cass perked, her eyes flashing as she turned to look over at her old friend. She started to open her mouth, her eyes flashing with a small hint of fear as she glanced over at Hiro. She hadn't told her old friend anything yet. She had been so busy planning the funeral and then dealing with this awful aftermath…she hadn't even called…and now… "Where's Tadashi?" Cass shut her mouth, wincing deeply as she closed her eyes. And there was no mistaking the way that Hiro went absolutely rigid as soon as the name reached his eardrums. Candice only grinned, looking towards the stairs as if she was expecting the boy to come barreling down into the café. "I haven't seen him yet. Is he asleep?"

Silence weighed itself in the space once again, but this time it was much heavier. Hiro's hand faltered in its strokes, and the child fell absolutely still, staring straight ahead as an unreadable expression settled over his features. A sickening feeling rose up from Cass' stomach, and it was a full two minutes before she could get a single syllable out. "Um…Tadashi…Tadashi's not…with us anymore." The words were quiet and murmured, and she was afraid that Candice had not heard and she would be forced to repeat the awful words. Her friend stared at her blankly for a moment, seeming confused. Cass sighed underneath her breath before elaborating with a pained expression. "There was a fire at his school. He…uhm…he ran in to try and save someone, and…uh…he didn't make it out in time. We…we had his funeral a few months ago. I was going to call you, but…I guess my head was just…"

Mochi roused slightly, looking disconcerted as he turned and pawed at Hiro, who was now unmoving. Yet even as the bobtail poked at his arm and gave a soft mew that demanded some attention, none was given to him from the boy. He just continued to stare straight ahead, his eyes distant, as if he was watching something very far away. Cass immediately sparked with panic at the expression slowly clouding over her nephew's face, but before she could say anything, Candice was talking.

"Oh! That's awful! I had no idea!" She reached up to cover her mouth with one hand, her expression creasing over in grief as the information slowly registered. "That's so…I'm so sorry!" She held a hand over her heart, turning to focus her attention solely onto Cass now. "He was such the nicest little boy! It must have been so awful to go through all of that! Oh, you should have called me! I could have come over here sooner to help you with everything! You poor thing!" She darted over and wrapped her friend in yet another bone-crushing hug, yet Cass was almost oblivious to it. The woman was looking over at Hiro with heavy worry and concern. Still he had not moved. "This is so tragic!" Candice went on, rambling now— or at least unable to stop. "He was so young, though, wasn't he? And he was enrolled in college! He was such a bright young man! Where was the fire— how did it start? Who was he trying to—?"

"You talk about him like you care." A frosty voice cut through the woman's speech like a knife. Candice perked, blinking rapidly as she let go of Cass and twisted back to look at Hiro. The boy's eyes were narrowed slightly, and he was still staring straight ahead. But, as if sensing that her gaze reverted back to him, Hiro turned and looked over at the newcomer, the faintest hint of loathing in the back of his seemingly-apathetic gaze. And when she didn't reply, too caught off-guard, he gave another snap. "You didn't even know him."

"Hiro!" Cass said immediately, taking a small step forward.

"No, it's okay," Candice said in a rush. "He just doesn't remember is all." After a second, her smile retuned, and she looked kindly down at the boy. However under the stare, Hiro's anger only seemed to increase. "I got to see Tadashi a few times. Actually, the last time I saw him was when I came down to see you." Her eyes were soft and once again she was completely oblivious to Cass, who was shifting back and forth nervously. Hiro's hands balled into fists as well— yet this fact was also just as lost to her. "Oh, I remember how cute he was when you were around! He was always wanting to hold you! Your mother was having a real fit keeping him away! He just adored you! And we could all tell that you were going to love him just as much! And I remember Cassie was so ecstatic to have two nephews rather than just one!"

Cass closed her eyes, flinching. "Candice, please. Maybe you should—"

"I remember when I held you!" Candice said, probably trying to change the subject just a little bit, though she was going in the wildly wrong direction. "Tadashi sat next to me the entire time, trying to coach me on how to 'properly hold' a baby. If you so much as gave a sniff, he was all over you! Afterwards Cassie and I wanted to give your mom a break, and we took Tadashi down the road to that little playground outside your neighborhood. Do you remember that place? But he was just rambling on and on about you— it was the cutest little thing ever!" Hiro gritted his teeth tightly, digging his fingernails hard into the skin of his arms. The wounds underneath the gauze and bandages immediately screeched in pain, as they were still very sensitive. However he ignored it completely. But what he could not ignore was the build-up of water in his eyes.

Cass took yet another small step forward. "Candice, let's go and—"

"I guess he never changed," the woman sighed, smiling softly to herself. "I watched for all the pictures of you guys that your aunt would post online, and hardly any of them had one or the other! You two were always joined at the hip; even when you were just a few weeks old." He felt sick. He was going to be sick. Candice pursed her lips, and she gave a solemn nod, looking a touch sadder now. "It must be very hard for you, then. To have to deal with losing such an important person to you. I'm very sorry for that. But really you should know that Tadashi would never have wanted you to be sad about it, I don't think. He would always want you to be happy, no matter what, you know? I did know Tadashi— maybe not as well as the next person, but enough to know that much. You can't be sad, you know? You just have to keep—"

"I didn't ask. Okay?" Hiro spat out, his voice absolutely venomous. Candice jerked, surprised and offended as she straightened. The teenager was shaking, his eyes furious now as he glared holes through the person standing in front of him. "I didn't ask about a _single_ thing you just said."

"Hiro!" Cass shouted, her eyes wide. "She was just trying to say that—"

"I don't care," Hiro interrupted, turning and stooping down for his crutches again. He snatched them up with a clatter, turning and abruptly shoving himself up to his feet. As always, the going was unsteady and clumsy— he wavered and shook as he fought to sort himself out before he could fall. The anger and grief that was blinding him didn't help at all either. But the boy managed the feat, shoving the walkers underneath his arms as he started to limp for the steps. "I'm going up to my room," he snarled underneath his breath, feeling agony burn and kindle underneath his skin.

Mochi blinked, perking up as he realized that Hiro was leaving. And quickly the bobtail jumped up to his paws, turning merrily and jumping down so that he could trot after the short teenager. He left Candice and Cass behind, Candice wearing a look of outright confusion and anger, while Cass wore a much more sorrowful look, which told far more than what met the eye. And quickly, the woman turned, reaching over and putting a hand on her friend's shoulder with a small frown.

From where he hobbled, Hiro could hear his aunt's voice drift over to meet his ears, and resentment was piled on further in the boy as her words registered. "I'm so sorry," she was saying. "I shouldn't have— …Hiro has been very upset ever since Tadashi died. I'm sure you can understand how hard it is for him. I've been trying to help him, but so far he's just…he's not been himself…" She went on to say more, but Hiro was sick of listening. He stormed up the steps with Mochi padding merrily behind, taking them quicker than he usually did in his attempt to leave the scene as fast as he could. He nearly tripped over himself about five times, but somehow he managed to catch himself each stumble, getting up the stairs in less than three minutes, which was probably a new record.

He took the other ones just as haphazardly, and finally he was able to get back into the solitude of his own room. Immediately, in a haze of anger and frustration, the teenager turned and grabbed hold of his crutches, turning and throwing them to the side as hard as he could. They slammed into the nearest wall with enough force to knock a few things off of his shelf, and Hiro immediately collapsed against the ground as he was left unbalanced. He about let out a cry of pain – what else could he do, really? – but he swallowed it back at the last second.

Instead he turned, silently seething as he pushed himself back up and forced weight onto his injured ankle. There was discomfort and pain in each as he shuffled forward, but he bit back each noise before it could be wrenched up from his throat. Instead he focused on where he was going, the boy's chest feeling tight and suffocated as he went over towards Tadashi's bed. His brother's hat had been lying discarded after Hiro had placed it there a while ago, and as Hiro threw himself onto the mattress, he leaned over and drew the small thing closer. He curled up as if he was in pain, and pulled his arms close, ducking his head down and burying his face into the material of Tadashi's old hat.

It didn't smell like him anymore. After so many weeks of Hiro wearing it, there was no trace of his older brother left in the cloth. And his bed felt hollow and empty as well, not warm and familiar as it had been before. Tears dripped down the boy's face, and as his shoulders began to shake, he looked up and stared brokenly at his brother's shelves lining the walls. They were dusty and dirtier than Tadashi would have ever let them get while he was still here. The small figurines and little statues were covered in a fine layer of the mites— the detail was small and yet it plainly showed how much time had passed. How long Tadashi had not been here to clean them effectively.

The boy hiccupped and reached up to rub at his eyes, his face already sticky and wet. Frustration burned him— not because of the fact that Candice had been so ignorant as to keep talking, but more so because of the idea that everything she said had been absolutely true. He had grown up holding his brother's hand. In school, when he was tossed against a locker, Tadashi had been there half a second later to offer him a Band-Aid, and to the offer the bullies a piece of his own mind. On Halloween, it had been Tadashi to dress up with him, and to carry him on his shoulders whenever he got too tired to walk for himself. Whenever Hiro woke up having a bad dream, it was Tadashi that always offered a small bit of comfort to the younger. And whenever Hiro cried, it was Tadashi to offer him a tissue and a few words of solace, hugging him tight and assuring him that everything would be okay.

Losing Tadashi was like losing both of his legs. He couldn't function. He couldn't go on and keep dragging himself to where he needed to go. He was growing exhausted and tired of clawing his way around. He just wanted to be able to stand up again. He just wanted to be able to do something without being hindered by what he knew was missing. He just wanted Tadashi back, and his heart twisted in on itself as he knew that such a thing was impossible.

He locked his jaw backwards and buried his face again, trying to keep himself from choking or gagging on the sickening feeling that was building up inside of himself. He just hugged the hat tighter to himself, taking in shallow after shallow breath as he tried to remember what to felt like to breathe easy. To take in a full drink of air without his throat swelling shut on itself, or his stomach clenching in a violent way. He was so focused on his thoughts that he didn't even notice a set of footsteps coming upstairs. He didn't notice the newcomer until she spoke, her words barbed and scolding.

"I hope you're happy," Cass said with a hint of reproach. "Candice left very upset."

Hiro didn't turn back to look at her. He didn't even twitch. "Can't you see how happy I am?" he asked hollowly, his voice monotone.

Cass locked her jaw backwards, her hand holding tightly to the end of the banister. "Hiro, you really shouldn't have done that," she said, trying to gauge the sharpness of her tone so that she wasn't too harsh. "She was just trying to make you feel better. You had no reason to lash out at her." She paused, waiting for Hiro to respond. And when he didn't, she sighed softly and went on. "Honey, I feel as if that's all you've been doing recently," she hedged. "Whenever I try to help you, you always yell and react badly. You just need to learn that maybe people could help you, you know? You can't shove people away whenever you don't feel like talking. Because one day you're going to look up and realize that you're all alone."

Hiro still refused to reply— a silence of rejection that Cass had grown unfortunately used to. And looking at her nephew curled away on Tadashi's bed, holding his brother's hat close as if it was some kind of lifeline, Cass closed her eyes, unable to go on staring at the heart-wrenching sight. And she blurted the words out before she could debate whether or not right now was the appropriate time. "I'm boxing it all away," she announced, her words falling in between them like rocks. She opened her eyes to see that Hiro had already gone rigid, and even though he was facing away from her, she could tell that he was immediately trying to piece together what she meant. And taking a deep breath, she forced herself on. "Starting tomorrow I'm going to pack away Tadashi's things. I'm going to store them in the garage somewhere, I don't know. Just somewhere that's not here."

"You can't," Hiro said immediately, pushing up from the bed quicker than Cass anticipated as the woman straightened. Hiro's eyes had filled at once with anger, and he glared harshly over at his aunt. "You can't." he repeated, firmer than the first time. "You can't just…you can't take it away. You don't have any right!"

Cass crossed her arms uncomfortably over her chest. "I can see how upset you are about Tadashi's death," she said, struggling to be gentle. "And I understand that you might want to have some things to remember him by. But honey, I also see how upset it all makes you. And I hate the fact of you having to see all of this every night before you go to bed. So I'm going to start boxing it up. Maybe after I finish we can redecorate, huh? We can pick out some wallpaper that you want and maybe pick up a few cool things from the store that you'd like? We could remodel this entire end of the room!"

Hiro was unmoved by the energetic suggestion. He stared at Aunt Cass as if she had just turned around and kicked a puppy clear across the room. And frankly, under his stare, Cass was starting to wonder if that image was too far away from the truth. "You understand?" he asked quietly, his forehead creasing as his eyebrows pulled together slowly. "You understand? No— no, you don't understand, Aunt Cass. Otherwise you wouldn't be doing anything that you have been! You wouldn't be breathing down my neck! You wouldn't be watching my every move! You wouldn't be taking all of his things away!" Again, she noticed that he did not say his name. "You don't understand! At all! If you understood, you wouldn't be pretending like none of this was happening! That none of it ever happened! You wouldn't be pretending that everything was normal and nothing's changed!"

"I'm not pretending that nothing happened, Hiro," Cass pushed, her eyes bright with pain. "I've moved on, though, honey, and that's a completely different idea. It's what you need to start doing. Do you understand? You can still miss Tadashi, honey, but that doesn't mean you have to stop living. You can move on without forgetting him. And that's all that Candice was trying to say back downstairs. He's not really gone as long as we remember him." Hiro scoffed loudly at this, but she tried her best to ignore the fact. "Baby, I know you're in pain, and when you hurt, I do too. And honey, I just think that taking all of this stuff down will help you in the long run. And maybe later we can bring some of it back when you're better, sweetie. But right now I think it's best to just—"

"Stop!" Hiro blustered, reaching up and holding the sides of his head as he shook his head. "Baby! Sweetie! Honey! Stop it! You're treating me like I'm a five-year-old! Just stop it! You're so annoying!" Cass winced, but she kept her mouth shut as Hiro ranted on, knowing that cutting him off like he was her would only make him worse. "Ever since I've gotten back that's every third word out of your mouth! Just quit it! Quit staring at me when you think I can't see you, and quit fencing me inside of a room like I'm some kind of rabbit!" Tears beaded down his eyes, and he snapped out in a fit of anger: "You're not my mom! Stop acting like you are!"

Cass jerked backwards, as if slapped across the face from the comment. But after a moment of shock, she took in a level breath, shaking her head as she fought not to notice the strong tide of grief that slammed into her. She opened her mouth, struggling to think of something she could possibly say in reply to that. But her mind spaced, and as she grew silent, Hiro only seemed to grow more and more furious. He scowled deeply, shaking his head as more tracks of water marked down his cheeks. "You're not my mom!" he repeated, shouting even louder now as his hands balled into shaking fists. "You're just— you're just her _dumb_ sister that was so eager to have kids that she took _two_ of them without even knowing how to be a good parent first!"

Cass took a small step forward at this, her eyes narrowing. Yet although there was a strong sense of anger and sternness in her gaze, it was offset by the sheer amount of heartbreak and hurt there as well. Her voice trembled and shook like a leaf in the wind, and her throat was clogged when she managed a reply. "Hiro…you don't mean that." Her words were slow and separated, as if she was taking great care in choosing what she said. But most likely it was because she was just so at a loss of what to say to her little nephew, who, not five months ago, had commented on how pretty her hair had been after she got it cut. "You're just very upset right now," she said softly, slowly. "…You need to calm down."

Hiro shook his head, growling in the back of his throat as he scowled. It was a moment before he replied, and Cass wondered if the pause was there because he was trying to recollect himself. But the hope was dashed quickly as his voice remained just as stiff and coarse. "You're not going to take his things," he said, his voice frosted over with ice. "I want to keep them."

"We don't always get what we want, Hiro," Cass said, the edge returning to her voice, though her eyes remained raw and pained. She felt like she was choking on every single word that came out of her mouth, and she wanted nothing more than to walk away before anything else could be said between them. Already her eyes were burning and pricking, Hiro's words slowly burning themselves permanently in her mind. "I'm going to come in tomorrow and box it away. I want you downstairs while I'm doing it— it won't take long." She paused, gnawing on her lower lip. And her voice teetered on the edge of apology as she added softly: "It really will help you in the long run, sweetie. …I hope that one day you'll be able to see that. Because…right now, you just can't."

Hiro ducked his head down, closing his eyes tightly and heaving a short sigh that came out sounding more like a sob. He pushed his hands through his hair, dragging his nails painfully across his scalp in the process. His eyes closed tightly, and for a moment he went absolutely still, boiling inside of himself with the sheer amount of emotions pressing in on him from all sides. His body was wracked in tremors that he could not hold off, and for a second or two, he thought that he was suffocating under the weight of it all. Breath came hard to come by, and he had to concentrate in order to heave in one gasp after another. His fingers wrapped tighter into the hat, and after a few seconds that stretched into ages, he couldn't hold it back any longer.

The boy looked up to see that Aunt Cass was staring intently his way, with that same expression she always wore now when it came to him. One that shone with worry and concern and anger and deep deep sorrow all at once. The woman straightened as he looked up to meet her gaze head-on, but Hiro hardly noticed. He just brought the hat closer, his eyes growing desolate and vacant again. Noting the change, Cass took a step closer and started to say something, but she wasn't able to get it out before Hiro spoke up, his voice hollow and empty. And void of…well…anything.

"…I hate you," he rasped, his words barely above a mumble.

Cass went absolutely silent, her jaw snapping shut as she bit back whatever she was planning to say. If Hiro had been paying attention, he would have noticed her reaction. He would have seen the woman crumple and her eyes round out in a pain that seemed unimaginable in magnitude. He would have noticed the fact that her eyes immediately began to shine with tears in the light, or how she took a few unsteady steps back, away from her nephew. He would have heard the small whimpered noise that came out from her throat, and he could have witnessed his aunt's heart cave in on itself as the final nail was stabbed through it.

But he didn't see any of it. Because he wasn't paying attention.

Hiro turned away once more before he could watch any of what transpired in reaction to his cruel statement. The teenager was too swamped inside of his own mind, inside of his turmoil and agony and depression, to notice anything else. He ducked his head down low and buried it down into his brother's hat again, though this time he did not bring himself back up. He felt sick and disgusted in every way possible, and he curled up tighter to himself, wishing that the floor could open up and swallow him entirely.

He expected to feel a sense of triumph. That after being hovered over by Aunt Cass, he might have finally gotten back at her in at least some way. But he just felt hollow and empty inside— he couldn't bring himself to feel a single shred of anything. His face burned and his lower lip trembled as he turned to press himself more against the mattress, his breaths coming in short, quiet gasps as tears streaked down his face. Not for the first time he wished he had a door he could have slammed shut to act as a barrier between him and Aunt Cass. He wished he had a lock to bar her out, and the satisfying echo of a slam to reverberate around the room. But he didn't.

Cass lingered. Like everything seemed to do nowadays. She was silent, her hands clasped together tightly in front of her and her eyes gleaming with pain that, if laid out, would most likely stretch on for miles and miles. The words spoken not five seconds ago hung thick in the air between them, and it was clear that as they remained present, so would the pain inflicted from their meaning. Silent tears went numbly down her face, and Cass was absolutely still as she stared blankly at Hiro, as if he was someone that she had never seen before. As if he was an alien thing. A foreign aspect that she was just now encountering. But it was so much worse than that. It was someone she had known inside and out. Someone she had known like the back of her hand and had loved all the way to the moon and back. Someone…who hated her now.

"You…" Her words were a mere rasp now, her voice fractured and worn down. "You…have to take your medicine." she whispered softly. Hiro still didn't respond. She looked down, biting on her lower lip as she uncurled her right hand to reveal the small tablet she had brought up with her. She had meant to just come up and give him the medicine before he went to sleep. She had started out saying the wrong thing, and now… "Can you please take it?" she asked, her voice wilted and drained of all cheer. She couldn't even force herself to fake any sort of upbeat attitude anymore. What was the point, really?

Hiro only curled even further away, if such a thing was possible. And Cass was only offered a small mumble of: "Go away."

She flinched, feeling the words scrape her as if she had fallen on concrete and ripped open her skin. She just couldn't figure out how Hiro didn't see all the blood. Pausing in order to try and choke back the lump in her throat, she struggled to speak around it. "I'll just…um…" She reached up, ducking her head down and hurriedly rubbing her eyes, though finding it pointless as more tears just surged forward to replace the ones she brushed away. "I'll leave it here okay?" she whispered, going over slowly and putting it down lightly on Tadashi's bedside table. It made a small plink against the wood, but in the silence, it might as well have been a tremendous slam.

Hiro did not move, though Cass could see his body convulsing, as if he was freezing. Every impulse screamed at her to go over and take the blanket from Hiro's bed over to her nephew, and to tuck him in from the cold like she used to when he was little. But no sooner had she turned to glance over in that direction, did his words ring back to her. 'You're just her dumb sister!' 'I hate you.' She found herself cringing away from it instead, turning back and abruptly starting for the stairs. She couldn't hold herself together for much longer and she didn't want to be in Hiro's room when she was officially unable. "I'll be downstairs." she said, not raising her voice above a murmur for fear it would break.

She hesitated on the top of the stairs, pausing as she turned to look back at Hiro, who was still just a small ball on his older brother's bed. And feeling her chest twist in pain, Cass whispered softly: "Goodnight swe—" She choked on the word. Couldn't get it out. And when she went back to correct herself, her voice was a mere croak. "Goodnight," She waited for a reply that would never come and then turned, hunching her shoulders as she walked down the steps, her feet making little to no sound against the wood.

(•-•)(•-•)(•-•)(•-•)(•-•)(•-•)(•-•)(•-•)(•-•)(•-•)(•-•)(•-•)(•-•)(•-•)(•-•)(•-•)(•-•)(•-•)(•-•)

The nights were the worst. To lay wide-awake, susceptible to your thoughts, which piled and piled against you in a leaning tower, so unstable that it could fall and crumble at any second. Hiro's eyes were rimmed with dark circles and heavy bags, which showed just how many nights he had lain still, his eyes hollow as he stared at the wall opposite of him. Usually the thoughts piling up were against him— mutilating, self-ridiculing, blaming thoughts that broke and whittled the teenager down little by little. Harsh thoughts that would reduce the boy to tears, tremors lancing down his spine as he tried to curl away pathetically underneath the covers. Nights were usually marked with these episodes, silently endured as to not wake Aunt Cass and bring her unwanted presence up the steps.

But this night was different.

It was a still.

It was vacant.

There was absolutely no thoughts running amuck through Hiro's mind. And rather than staring brokenly across the room, tears blinking their way down his cheeks, Hiro's expression was wiped of any emotion whatsoever. He didn't tremble, and he didn't shake or crumble underneath the weight that he had forced onto his shoulders. No— he was entirely still. Like a statue, he laid on the bed, his numb gaze staring forward as he held his brother's hat close to himself. The only movement or sound in the entire room was the small sigh of Hiro's breathing every so often, and the ever so subtle twitch of his chest as it rose and fell.

Other than that, it was…still.

He remained motionless for quite some time, watching the hours of the clock tick away. Twelve A.M. melted into one, and from one to two, and then two to three. Hiro remained awake, his mind void of thought and his body void of movement. Yet when the clock next to him gleamed back the numbers 3:30, he stirred, breaking the peace and surrealism of his room. He turned, holding tight to Tadashi's hat with one hand, and picking up one crutch with the other. His head reeled from the sudden movement after lying still for so long, but the boy completely ignored it, only blinking away the darkness that swarmed his vision and leaning against the singular stick for support once he stood up.

He turned in a slow circle, blinking as he surveyed the room. Like an architect looking over their final project before release. And though his eyes held no expression, they seemed to carry with them a sense of purpose at the same time. Slowly, Hiro raised up his other arm to tuck the hat down over his head once again. And robotically, the boy began to move, reaching out and dragging his now-free hand alongside him as he walked a slow lap around the room.

He dragged his hand softly over each thing he passed. Over Tadashi's shelves, the things lined up there, his brother's privacy screen, the poster hung up on the wall. He felt his way across the wall, over the pictures hanging there, across the banner, over the mess on Hiro's workstation. The boy stopped short a moment, hindered as he looked down at the ground, his eyes falling on the mess still on the floor. The torn-up invitation to SFIT. It felt like ages when he had gotten up and tore the paper in a fit of rage and bitterness. Recalling the event, the boy blinked slowly, and for a heartbeat, he moved as if to lean down to attempt to pick up the mess. But at the last second he stopped and tore his gaze away instead.

The teenager picked up again after a moment, pulling his palm along the screen of his computer, over the pillow of his bed, down his covers, and across the closed chest that lay at its foot. He circled the entire room and lingered over every inch, a strange kind of tightness to his chest and throat, though his expression remained fixated in the same kind of appearance. And slowly, he repeated the lap, walking awkwardly with his one crutch, but not bothering to pick up the other. Like a goldfish, always forgetting seven seconds later, Hiro repeated the slow lap three times as if stuck in the loop, limping and shuffling— tripping every so often. And he still wore the odd expression.

But after a moment he seemed to snap out of whatever mental reverie he was in, blinking as he turned and stared down the steps. He lowered his hand down to grip onto his crutch as well, standing awkwardly, yet not wanting to make the trip back to get the other stupid thing. He hobbled forward, grimacing every other stride as he made his way over to the stairs and eventually clumsily down each landing. He tripped and staggered, cringing and trying to retain his balance with difficulty. He could barely make it up and down the steps with two crutches— one was just ridiculous.

Hiro half-fell half-walked down to the living room, stopping only once he was on level ground. The house was dark and empty in the early morning, and every sound seemed amplified to be twice as loud as it normally was. He took care in being quiet, though the thought was distant and not in the forefront of his mind. The teenager began to limp towards the next set of stairs, but he was stopped short when he turned, a picture frame on the wall catching his eye. Swallowing through a lump in his throat, the child turned and doubled back a little bit, having his tilt his head awkwardly to see the snapshot in question.

His mind was all frazzled and scrambled— at the moment he couldn't remember for the life of him where it was taken or what had happened during the picture. And as the realization dawned over him, he felt a strong sense of sorrow clench over his heart. It was a photo of him, Tadashi, and Aunt Cass. All beaming at the camera with a backdrop that seemed pretty, though he wasn't focusing on that part. He just stared at those captured in the moment, feeling as if he was gazing at a different set of people he had never laid eyes on before. He stared at Cass, who looked bright and happy, genuine joy in her eyes rather than the tinny forced kind of expression she wore nowadays.

He didn't even recognize himself at first. He didn't recognize the person that grinned back at him, their hands on their hips as they offered a self-assured look at the camera. The person wasn't skinny or sunken-in from lack of food. They weren't weary and exhausted from insomnia— far from it. They seemed bursting with energy, as if they could suddenly whirl around and dash off in a split second. He shifted, an uncomfortable look coming over his face rather than the expressionless stare he'd worn before, and, unsure now, he turned to study the last person, his eyebrows pulled together in a soft cringe.

Tadashi was grinning from ear-to-ear, one hand in his pocket and the other reaching out to where Hiro was standing. His older brother had put bunny ears directly behind his head, something that Hiro had obviously been unaware of at the time. Hiro frowned, turning so that he could hold tighter to his crutch, trying to stave off the wave of grief and anguish that washed over him. Tadashi's eyes glinted with mischief and amusement, and Hiro cursed himself for not being able to remember what had happened after the picture was taken. Had he turned and noticed the trick, scoffing before jerking over and punching his older brother's shoulder? Had he laughed or had he gotten angry? Had Tadashi laughed? Had Aunt Cass? He wracked his brain for any kind of answer or hint, but it was pointless.

It took him a long time to be able to rip his gaze away from the photo. And when he did, he paused, his chest feeling hollowed-out and heavy as he looked guiltily down the hall. He then turned back to the photo— at how happy everyone had been, and how wide Cass had been smiling. And the teenager turned to look towards the kitchen, shifting for a moment before hobbling over to nearest the counter. Hiro struggled to maneuver with the singular crutch, halfway considering just dropping the thing and walking on his injury rather than juggle himself awkwardly. The action would cause him pain and discomfort, but that was the last thing on his mind.

Debating only a few moments more, Hiro finally turned and settled with propping the crutch away against the counter, immediately having to lean awkwardly to the side to try and keep weight off his bad foot. But the fact only registered in the farthest reach of his mind. Shoving it aside before the concern could grow the boy turned, limping over to the junk drawer near the far right and rummaging around with a fixated look. Finally he fished out the things he had in mind, leaning against the counter now as he straightened out a small pad of post-it-notes. And, uncapping the pen he had also recovered, the boy hunched over and scribbled down a few words, his eyes narrowed in an odd kind of concentration as the pen scooted its way across the lined surface.

When he was finished, he let the pen roll away, unconcerned with where it could end up. He took the small piece of paper he had written on and peeled it away from the others, making sure its end was sticky enough as he pushed off the counter and turned down the hall. It was harder to stay quiet when he didn't have any kind of support, yet the boot casted over his foot was padded at the bottom, so he didn't bother too much with trying to stifle any excess sound. Whatever came out would be quiet enough as it was. His movements still resembled that of a robot, stiff and mechanical as he paced. And when he same down to Cass' door, he came to stop, blinking as he stared hard at the wood in front of him.

For a heartbeat he hesitated, his eyes flashing in an odd way as he looked at the door that led into his aunt's room. His hand twitched up at his side, almost as if it was going to stretch towards the doorknob. But as he reached up, his eyes were snatched downwards, the sleeve of his shirt being pulled back ever so slightly as to expose the thick wrappings underneath that had previously been hidden. The lump in his throat came back, and he quickly snatched his arm back to himself, pressing it close to his side as he stiffened. Hiro turned to look back over his shoulder, the boy not managing to see the picture hanging on the wall from this far away. But he didn't need to— the faces had been burned into his eyes in a seemingly permanent manner.

Beats of silence passed, and for a long moment he remained stock-still, as unmoving as a statue. But then he turned, his expression wilting as he stuck the post-it note gently to the door, as not to make a noise against the wood. And when he was sure it would stick and not fall off, he turned and started for the steps that would take him down to the bakery. He grimaced with the effort that such a feat required, and he was forced to prop himself up against the banister to take each step by slow step. Sweat beaded at his brow with the effort, and his arms shook and pricked in pain each time they were forced to move and hold his body up.

The back part of his mentality advised him to wait— to stop once he got to the end of the stairs and check his arms to make sure that the stitches were still intact. Using his arms this much was already cautionary— so was walking around in general. The crutches given to him were supposed to be used in minimal dosages to get where he needed to go in last resorts. Really, he had been expected to rest until he got stronger or at least until his ankle healed a little bit more. The Hospital had given them this notification, yet Hiro had only been half paying attention at the time. And he was just as absent to the little voice in his head as he continued to walk gingerly along.

Once he hit level ground, he paused only to give out a short huff of air before forcing his legs to move, a little quicker now. He glanced at the clock as he weaved around the counter and went over on the other side, but it was still early. Blinking, Hiro turned and looked up, scanning the cabinets with the same look he had worn since he had gotten out of bed. And when his eyes landed on a specific one, he ducked forward, beginning to heave himself up onto the marble with a pinched look of pain. His arms trembled as he pulled up, the limbs thoroughly exhausted by everything that he had forced them into doing. And he grimaced as his bad leg hit against the counter with a hard thud. But he shoved every fact aside, shaking his head before finally managing to balance himself on top of the surface.

Stretching, he reached up and opened the door of the cabinet, his eyes narrowed as he searched the contents. Yet even when his eyes landed on the thing he was searching for, he did not move, taking a moment only to stare blankly at the object, as if he had never seen it before. But he had, of course. And he had taken care to remember where it was stored for this exact purpose. So he tried to shake himself out of whatever rut he had gotten stuck in for the moment, the boy reaching over slowly to grab up the thing before he could waste any more time. And he tried not to notice the fact that, as he reached out, his hand trembled and shook like a leaf in the wind.

He grabbed the small bottle and shut the door without a sound, though he had a little bit harder of a time lowering himself back down to the ground. He winced as his bad leg was forced back into holding up a portion of the weight, yet the thought was in the back of his mind as he looked down instead at the bottle he held in his hands. Turning, he lowered himself down to the ground, sitting with his back against the display case as he studied what small writing he could make out in the darkness.

Hiro Hamada. Prescription medication. Celexa.

He paused. Fell still. But after a heartbeat or two, the boy turned and popped the cap off of the casing, dropping it carelessly on the ground before tipping it over and watching numbly as a pill shook itself out to rest on the palm of his hand. And, hesitating for yet another moment, Hiro's dead expression watched as the boy tipped the bottle over the rest of the way, the rest of the pills spilling out in a rush to pile up on top of themselves like a mountain.

He thought of counting them. Odd. To sit there and sort through everything. To arrange it and organize it when he couldn't even do the same thing to himself.

He shook the thought free like water. He didn't need to count them. There was more than enough— counting would just waste time. Time that he didn't want to spend anymore. But still, he could not move. His arm refused. And against himself, he thought of what the boy in the picture would be doing right now. He'd be kicking. Screaming. Grabbing his arm and yanking it to side, causing the pile of pills to fall and scatter across the ground.

But he wasn't here. He was somewhere else— in a memory that was much lighter than what was taking place right now. In a place with perfect smiles and a person on each side of him. Even if it was just a picture, it was much better than what was here, if you were asking him. He would gladly take as many artificial feelings of happiness over the harrowing, clawing at his throat and bringing water up to surge his eyes. It was why he couldn't keep it up. It was why his legs were buckling and crumbling underneath him. It was why he had come down where at four in the morning. It was why he was staring down at what he held in his hands.

He could not get his arm to move. It was stuck. And for a moment he thought that it would finally give way— that the small shred of refusal he still had inside of himself would win over. He could just drop it all. Get back up to his feet and go upstairs. Maybe. But as soon as the plan came to mind, he stopped short, his heart clenching. He couldn't walk back up there. He couldn't pass the photo of him and Tadashi and Aunt Cass a second time. He couldn't look at each bright face and realize yet again what he had lost. Realize yet again how even he was so different now. And he could not go back up to the empty room. He couldn't stand by tomorrow and watch Aunt Cass box all of Tadashi's things away like they were garbage. He couldn't go to the therapist like Aunt Cass wanted, and he couldn't handle being watched anymore.

He couldn't.

And as the thoughts piled more and more, he began to shake and tremble.

And, gradually, his arm began to move.

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It was dark. And cold. He didn't think it would feel like this. Granted, he didn't have a feeling in mind at the time, but…certainly he didn't think it would be anything like this. His body felt like lead— each movement was delayed and slow, as if he was moving through syrup. His head was pounding, and his ears were ringing. Hiro's forehead creased in a sense of pain, though whatever sensation of the kind he felt came across as muffled and distant, as if it was a long way away. Groggily, Hiro's eyes forced their way open, though he could only manage to open them halfway, his gaze foggy and half-lidded.

His stomach. And his head. Those were the most prominent places of pain, though even then, it wasn't overpowering.

_Are you okay!?_

Hiro twitched violently, wincing as a voice echoed its way over to him.

_Are you hurt!?_

That voice…

…_What were you thinking!?_

Hiro shifted, trying to move and get up. But he couldn't— he felt like stone. "Ta—" His words ended in a hacking cough, the boy unable to move his jaw in the correct way. He couldn't move anything in the correct way. His throat opened and closed rapidly on itself, almost as if it had a mind of its own. Trying to get out words only made his body jerk and seize as his throat closed on his speech prematurely. He tried again, desperate. He knew that voice. "Tad—" But it just ended in a wheeze once more. Struggling was pointless.

_Hiro!_

The boy searched as frantically as he could to try and see where his brother was. It had to be him—it just had to be. But moving was impossible at the moment. He was rendered of all power; he could just lay on the ground, his head getting fuzzier and fuzzier as it drooped down to the side. His chest heaved, his breathing sparse and weakened. But again the voice came, echoing almost, as if it was coming from miles away.

_Bonehead!_

_You'd better apologize to Aunt Cass before she…_

Hiro floundered, feeling horrible pain and sorrow wrench at his heart. Tears tracked down his face and the boy gave a whimper of agony. _Where_ was Tadashi? "Ta—" He curled forward and heaved out yet another cough, flinching deeply in the process. His chest was starting to ache and burn; he gasped for air that didn't seem to fill his lungs.

Gradually colors seeped out from the shadows, starting to settle together to form scenery, albeit a very distorted one. Head spinning, Hiro jerked as he found himself suddenly on his feet rather than his back, swaying as he stumbled awkwardly forward. A sickening feeling crowding his senses, the boy looked up, standing on trembling legs as he tried to make sense of the warped area that was now replacing the darkness he had been in previously. His eyes narrowed against the light shining on him, and he could feel his heartbeat throbbing in his ears like a metronome. The beat was slow— very slow. But it was panicked all the same.

Hiro could see himself standing on the SFIT stage, a singular microbot in his left hand and its corresponding band wrapped around his head. He staggered, heaving for air as his grip around the microphone in his other hand tightened. His head whipped up, his eyes landing on the large crowd gathered in front of him. And in no time at all had his gaze drilled to its center, landing directly onto Aunt Cass and Tadashi.

He stiffened and staggered forward again, his heart clenching as he found himself staring at his brother. Yet with every shaking step his legs seemed to buckle more and more underneath him. It was getting harder and harder to take in air, and he felt a rising panic start to bloom even more in his stomach. He was drowning. He was drowning. The boy's face creased over in alarm, yet Tadashi and Cass only beamed proudly back at him, oblivious to the way his mouth moved in soundless pleads for help.

From where he stood, Tadashi grinned at his baby brother, raising his hands and bringing them up and away from his chest in a slow, calming pattern. And just as soundlessly, his lips moved to form one encouraging word.

_Breathe…_

But he couldn't. He was drowning.

Hiro collapsed to the floor, the microbot falling from his hand and the microphone squealing loudly as it rolled away from him. His body broke out into spasms, and he raised his hands to claw at his heart, his mouth opening in a silent screech of agony as he thrashed. The crowd before the stage seemed frozen— fixed in their place. They grinned in a sense of eagerness, enthralled in a presentation that Hiro was not giving. And as the young boy gagged and struggled, they only watched with bright, glazed stares, like dolls.

It did not take long for Hiro's struggles to grow weaker. The boy began to fall still, his chest heaving for air as if he was a fish wrenched out of water. The colors and shapes, however blurry and hazy they had been in the first place, were slowly sinking away. The teenager watched, limp now as his movement was reduced to a mere twitch every so often. Like shadows, he watched as each person clustered in front of him faded away into smoke one by one. His eyes, alight with desperation, drilled back over to where his family had been standing. They were one of the few people still remaining on the floor.

But as soon as he found them again, Aunt Cass disappeared as well, fading away quicker than Hiro could register in his state.

And it only took a few agonizing seconds for the others to follow.

Until Tadashi was the only one still standing in front of the stage. Hiro's body broke into spasms, and his jaws opened in the desperate attempt to call out. To beg his brother to help him. To beg him to make it all hurt less. But he couldn't manage it. And again, in Hiro's blurring vision, his brother repeated the gesture from before, taking in a slow intake of air in a sense of demonstration. _Breathe…_But Hiro couldn't. He was drowning. And as the boy grew feebler and feebler, his sparse movements slowly grew meager and nonexistent. His body was forced to relax, and his lungs began to shrink inwards, beginning to give up entirely. The distant pain he had been pinned under was starting to ebb away to be replaced by a certain level of numbness— whether that was a good thing or a bad thing, he had no idea.

Hiro's eyes began to close, and Tadashi too began to fade away. Yet now the older brother's face had fallen, his smile gone as he now wore a much more mournful stare. He looked at Hiro the way a person would a puppy with only three legs, and the stare burned a hole through what remained of Hiro's consciousness. Tadashi opened his mouth, his lips moving as if he was trying to talk to his little brother. But no sound came out, and Hiro was far too gone to attempt to focus and find out such a detail. He could only watch as the smudge of his brother slowly faded like everyone else had.

He was alone.

Pressure increased on Hiro's chest tenfold, but it was too late for him to remotely notice.

Because darkness crowded the boy's vision again, and he was able to finally able to feel a sense of relief.

The most selfish sense of relief there was to get in this world.


	10. Chapter 10

A/N: I've got a system set out now. I'll read over the newest chapters the next day during math (I freaking hate math, it's so boring). So if you'd like to prolong your reading until then for the few typos that might be down here, I would wait until tomorrow night to read. By then I should have (if it works out) read over the chapter and fixed anything that needs to be fixed or retouched.

And I got a slight complaint (on another website) that the way I portray a Hospital isn't that accurate? I'm not here to claim that I know exactly what I'm doing when it comes to the medical field, but I will tell you that _everything_I put on this story when it comes to Hospitals and what happened inside of them comes directly from me and the situation I went through late last year. So I'm not saying I'm completely right when it comes to all this because I'm no lawyer— I'm just saying that this is what happened to me. If you'd like some reference to how the setting is laid out for this chapter, you can search up Cardinal Glennon Hospital. The waiting room really is adorable.

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It wasn't possible. It just didn't happen like this. Ever since the night of the Showcase, things had been going downhill— she understood that. But something like _this_? Despite everything, she had not been able to remotely predict something like _this_ occurring. She couldn't even say the word, though it was burning in the back of her mind like an ember. There was a very specific word for what had occurred— but she knew without a doubt that even thinking of the term would cause her stomach to twist and seize in a sharp sense of pain. No; she couldn't even bring herself to touch it.

From where it rested beside her, the girl's phone buzzed to life, beginning to vibrate as an incoming call made its presence known. She jumped in surprise, looking down at her mobile with a sense of panic. And, adjusting her grip on the steering wheel so that she could just manage with one hand, the girl turned and snatched up her mobile in a rush, quickly answering the phone before it could ring itself out. And she wasted no time before she rushed the phone up against her ear, her voice coming out small and panicked even to her.

"Hello?" she asked in a rush, her grip on the steering wheel tightening. Her knuckles bleached white with the effort, and she could feel her heart begin to start pounding against her chest as she waited nervously for a reply. "Hello? Did something else happen?" She tensed, turning the steering wheel sharply as she took a left turn. "I'm only a couple of minutes away— don't tell me I've missed something!" She gave out a small huff, wincing a little bit as she shifted her car so that she was more secure in her lane. She could see the Hospital coming up around the corner; against herself, because she was normally a very cautious driver, she accelerated a little bit more, pressing her foot down on the gas as she kept her eyes on the large building.

"No, no, I don't think anything else happened," the voice on the other end assured quickly. There was noise in the far background, and the girl driving bit her lower lip at the hint of such bustling activity. Though at the reassurance, she was able to feel a touch more relaxed. "I just stepped out for a second to call you— we've been wondering where you are."

"I didn't mean to worry anyone," the girl said, immediately apologetic. She started to exit the road, making a move to pull off and enter the Emergency Room parking lot. "I left as soon as I got the call, but I had to stop and tell my professors that I wouldn't be working in the lab during Break for a couple of days. I told them I'd spend all my free time there; I couldn't just cancel without telling someone." She let out a small huff, though it curled at the end of it, showing a sense of withering sorrow. "But are you sure I haven't missed anything?" she demanded worriedly, fretful as she started to scan the lot for spaces. She paused and reached up to rub at her forehead, grimacing deeply as she felt her eyes start to sting and prick. "I just— I never thought that it would come to this, you know?" The girl paused and swallowed thickly. Then cleared her throat and asked in a scared voice: "…So what's happening now, Gogo?"

Gogo paused briefly, and the girl heard what sounded like a tired sigh on the other end of the line. "Honey Lemon, it's just—" She suddenly broke off, and Honey Lemon went rigid at the silence. What— had she missed something? Why were there no parking spaces in the entire parking lot!? She bit down on her lower lip, listening closely as she realized that Gogo was talking again on the other line. Not to her; Honey Lemon could tell that her friend had pulled the mobile away from her mouth. Whatever it was, it sounded like a small argument, and when Gogo returned, Honey Lemon having just caught sight of an available space, her friend sounded irritated. "I have to go," Gogo said thinly, the blonde picturing her friend's pinched look of anger. "Apparently I can't be wandering around the hall on the phone."

"'Wandering around the hall?'" Honey Lemon repeated, turning into the space and quickly shutting the car off as she snapped her keys back to herself. "What?"

Gogo paused, as if waiting for whoever had interrupted her to leave. "Yeah, I got yelled at." Her voice was flat and sour when she did respond. "I'd better get back anyway; they'll be missing me. Look, I'll fill you in on everything when you get up here— or at least someone will. But you just…you just gotta be careful. Especially when you talk to Aunt Cass, you know?" Honey Lemon was about to reply— to assure her friend that, of course, she would be as gentle as humanely possible with something like this. But Gogo had moved on swiftly before she could. "Are you almost up here?"

Honey Lemon turned, shoving open her car door and slamming it behind her. She turned, pinpointing the entrance to the Hospital and starting her rush towards the building. "I'm coming in now," she said, tripping repeatedly and admonishing herself for thinking heels was a good idea. Though she had to admit, when she got the call this morning, she wasn't really thinking at all. "Oh no— what room was it again?" she demanded, her mind scrambled and panicked as she tried to wrack her mind for the answer. "What floor?"

"Third floor," Gogo said, her voice curt now. "We're all in Room 210. Just say that you're here to see him and they'll let you up. Oh— and don't forget to smile." Honey Lemon blinked rapidly, her forehead creasing in a sense of confusion. But Gogo swept on before she could ask any kind of question. "Look, I gotta go. That nurse is giving me the evil eye. I'll see you in a minute."

There was a small click and eventually a dial tone. Honey Lemon pulled the phone away from her ear, her face falling as she realized her friend had hung up on her. But she shook it off quickly; she was almost there anyway. Though Gogo's last few words hadn't clicked at all. Smile? Smile for what? She hardly felt like smiling as she made for the Hospital, and every step closer caused the girl's chest to constrict even more. The morning was still fairly early – it was around ten almost, she thought – but the Hospital was already full of activity.

People walked in and out of the main doors, some holding children's hands and others completely alone. Some wore looks of relief which others resembled more of Honey Lemon's expression: one of mixed fear, panic, and sorrow. Her eyes slid over and landed on a little boy that was walking out of the building, his arm molded over in a bright blue cast and his eyes gleaming with mischief as his mother ushered him along from the back. Even from where she walked, Honey Lemon could hear the parent's chastising words float their way over to her. "Honestly, John. You should have been more careful. Wait until your father hears about this— I can't believe this. Ugh." Though her words could not stay harsh forever, and she sighed shortly before pressing: "Does your arm still hurt? Do you want to go get some ice cream?"

Honey Lemon stopped, feeling guilty about eavesdropping. Though as she turned away, a part of her realized that the emotion alone wasn't the reason she had ducked past them. Sheer remorse wasn't what caused her pace to hasten ever so slightly. As the mother admonished her son, Honey Lemon couldn't help but think of Aunt Cass and Hiro. Her eyes blurred and she frowned, reaching up to brush underneath her glasses before tears could spill over her face. She wondered bleakly whether or not Aunt Cass could have the chance to chatter into Hiro's ear like that mother had been doing to her own child. Or whether or not Hiro could have the chance to grin and roll his eyes like the little boy.

But after what happened, she knew that it was near impossible.

The doors opened automatically in front of the girl, and Honey Lemon was chilled to the bone as the Hospital's air conditioning immediately slammed into her. The girl's hands clasped tightly in front of her and she hesitated almost as soon as she entered the building. The blonde bit down hard on her lower lip, suddenly agonizing as she turned and looked from one side to the other. Hallways of all sorts branched out in front of her, and for a second or two she was at a complete loss on where she could go. However, turning to look straight forward, Honey Lemon found herself staring at a large, grand desk. Two people were on staff on the other side, one hunched over a computer, and she figured that that was her best bet in getting to where she needed to go. So, tapping the ground nervously with the toe of her left heel, she turned and paced nervously over to the counter.

At first she wasn't noticed, so she cleared her throat in a respectful manner. This caught one of the worker's attention, and the man grinned with a ready smile as he looked up to meet her gaze. "Hello," he greeted warmly. "My name is Anthony— how can I help you today?" He scooted his rolling chair over so that he was able to reach the computer, and his fingers hovered over the keyboard as he looked up at her expectantly.

She coughed again, reaching up and tucking a lock of hair behind her ear as the blonde smiled wearily. "Uhm…I'm here to see Hiro. Hiro Hamada. …He is here, right?" The stupid question slipped off of her tongue, but thankfully Anthony didn't find fault in it. Considering his line of work was manning the front desk near the Emergency wing of the Hospital, he must be pretty experienced with it comes down to dumb questions like that. He just cleared his throat, turning and typing out the name with quick fingers. And after a moment, he pursed his lips in thought.

"Hiro Hamada was brought in at about…half past eight," he reported slowly. He looked up from the computer and looked at her expectantly. "Relation to the patient?"

She gave a small nod. "I'm a friend," she said quickly. "His aunt…uhm, his aunt asked me to come."

The man gave a nod. "And could you confirm the name of his aunt for me, please?" he requested.

"Aw, c'mon, Anthony," the other worker sighed. A short-haired brunette looked over at her friend, rolling her eyes with a small scoff. "Can't you see how beat up she looks? Looks like she got hit by a truck." Honey Lemon blinked, slightly offended. But the woman didn't see the expression, too focused on looking at her friend skeptically. "Don't you remember those others? Three other friends have come up to see a Hiro Hamada— she's no different. Just give her a tag."

Anthony only raised his eyebrows at the blonde, waiting for an answer.

"Honey Lemon." The old nickname slipped her lips before she could stop herself, and for a second she thought of taking it back and starting over. Surely when a Hospital asked for your name they meant your actual one, right?

But surprisingly Anthony didn't even do a double-take before typing out the name given to him. And his coworker scoffed, a smile crossing over her face as she turned back to her own work. "You guys have some weird names," she mumbled under her breath, trying to be discreet but failing miserably. "It sounds like some kind of a party up there." But then she cleared her throat, perking as she looked up at the blonde. "Alright Honey Lemon; if you could step out a little bit, we need to take your picture. We'll give you a nametag and then you can go right up to the third floor."

Oh. Remember to smile. She could understand the scathing joke now, though at the moment she just frowned. Why on Earth would they require a photo? She had rushed out of her house so quickly— her hair was a mess and her eyes were bloodshot from being jarred out of sleep. Her face was red and tears were glazed over her eyes. The last thing you wanted to do to someone when they were rushing for the Intensive Care wing of the Hospital was take their photo.

A sense of awkwardness settled over the teenager as Honey Lemon took a small step backwards, wincing as she wrung her hands together. She bit down on her lower lip, but the worker only reached up and tapped the small camera positioned on top of the desk. "Could you look right here?" she asked. "Just stare at the camera for about three seconds and then we can print off your information on a little sticker. We need all visitors to have a tag so that there isn't any confusion, you know? Standard procedure. So say cheese!"

Honey Lemon stuttered, blinking rapidly as she straightened. She tried to offer a smile, yet it came out as a gesture that didn't reach her eyes. The effort felt tinny and pathetic, and somehow trying out the grin only made her feel worse. She just wanted to see Hiro. The longer that time stretched on, the worse she felt. And as the camera gave out a loud click, taking her picture, she grimaced and ducked her head, rubbing her eyes clear of any excess moisture as best she could.

Anthony turned and walked over to the machine situated close by. And after series of beeps, the small device puttered out the desired object. He plucked it away and leaned over the counter, reaching out and handing her the sticker with a generous smile. "There you are," he said with a nod. "Just tear the sticker off of the paper and please put it somewhere visible to the Hospital staff. Once you do that you're free to go and visit the patient you have in mind."

The girl working beside him checked the clock, mumbling something about how long her lunch break seemed to be from now. Anthony turned back over to his computer, and as his attention diverted itself away from her, Honey Lemon figured that that was just as much of a dismissal as anything she was going to get. She mumbled out a small thank-you and turned, heading quickly for the elevators and jamming her index finger into the 'up' button with a hard poke.

It came sooner than she anticipated, and once she slipped through the sliding doors, Honey Lemon gingerly pressed the button that would take her to the third floor. It was frigid inside of the building— though it certainly wasn't as cold as it was outside. If she remembered correctly, it was supposed to snow again sometime very soon. The blonde shivered, though the action came was more derived from fear than the cold. The elevator emitted a small beep as it passed each floor, and Honey Lemon was almost grateful for that fact that such an occasional sound prevented silence from weighing too heavily inside the small compartment. And, waiting to reach the third floor, Honey Lemon shuffled backwards to lean against the wall, letting loose a weary sigh.

But when the doors opened she was right back up, pushing herself off and walking quickly into the hall. Once again, she was met with a variety of hallways, and, feeling the sense of awkward confusion. She reached up and rubbed at her face with yet another huff, though upon glancing to the left, she saw with a trace of relief that there was a directory pinned on the wall. Veering to the side, she bit down on her lower lip and searched the sign fretfully. It took her a moment to realize where she was supposed to go, but sure enough she landed on it. The Intensive Care Unit of the Hospital was down to the left, and not wasting another moment, the nimble girl turned and rushed down the hall as quickly as she could. She had kept the others waiting for far too long by now.

To be truthful, it was not anything like she had expected. In fact, she was only reminded that she was inside of a Children's Hospital once she got to the Intensive Care waiting room. Because walking through the glass door at the end of the hall, she walked right into what looked like something out of a kid's dreams. Comfy chairs, adult-sized and child-sized alike, were scattered throughout the room, and near the center there was a grand train station table that had a track big enough for ten kids to crowd around. To the left, there was a machine that she could tell from the entrance made hot chocolate and tea and coffee, along with a number of other beverages along those lines. There was also an assortment of snacks as well, though with how early it was, they had gone untouched so far.

To the far right opposite of the machine the other half of the room was made to resemble the inside of a log cabin. And inside the fixture she could see a gaming set built into the wall in front of a small child-sized table. A couch was adjacent to that, as well as what looked to be a wooden toy box. There was a plastic make-up of a furnace with fake fire flickering in its hearth as well, and though it gave off no actual heat, it looked remarkably real given the circumstances. Looking around at the entirety of the area, Honey Lemon couldn't help but frown, feeling a sinking feeling in the pit of her stomach as she gazed at the empty space. This place seemed like so much fun— it was like it was made for kids to run and shriek and play. They could drink hot chocolate and push a train over a hill while they pretended as a pioneer playing a video game.

It was a façade.

And it depressed her.

More tears rushed to fill her eyes, but before they could, she turned and ducked quickly towards the other end of the room. There was another glass door on the other end of the waiting area, and though the pane, she could see people in scrubs and regular clothes alike bustling to and fro. And reluctantly, she turned and looked with an apprehensive expression at the phone situated into the wall. At least she knew what to do from here; all she had to do was call in and ask to be allowed over the threshold. For the second time. Exhaling shakily, the teenager picked up the receiver and waited for the other end to be picked up.

Staring though the glass, Honey Lemon watched as the person seated at the front desk of the ICU straightened, going over and picking up the other end. "Hello?" she asked presently, glancing over and meeting the younger girl's gaze with a perked look.

Honey Lemon cleared her throat. "I'm here to see Hiro Hamada," she explained nervously. "Uhm…my name is Honey Lemon?" It came out more of a question than anything else.

There was silence on the other end and at first she was afraid that she would get rejected for some reason. But after a moment the woman replied, yet her voice was clipped and curt just slightly. "Okay. But, really, you need to be the last person inside. No more visitors, alright? We can't have too many people inside of the Hospital room at one time. Especially when the patient wakes up." Honey Lemon opened her mouth to reply, but the dial tone cut her off. The woman had hung up on her. But at the same time she had unlocked the glass door for her to be able to come in.

Sighing, Honey Lemon turned and hung up. But she refused to let herself droop too much— not when she was so close to seeing Aunt Cass. If she came in looking as disheartened as she felt, then she wouldn't very well be able to make the other feel better.

She turned and pushed her way into the actual Intensive Care wing, her eyes immediately searching for Hiro's room number. And as she got closer and closer to her destination, her stomach seemed to fold and crease upon itself. The thought of facing Aunt Cass…after all that had happened…it was almost unthinkable. The woman had been already been upset over how things were going before. And this must have just pushed her over the edge. And Honey Lemon was doubly nervous over the idea that she was expected to provide support for her now. What if she couldn't keep herself from wilting?

Stubbornly, she shook the worrisome thought away. If the others had gotten through it, then she could too. And she wanted to, of course— she wanted nothing more than to help make Cass feel better, and even shoulder her through all of this. It was what they had been doing together when Hiro was missing, after all.

But that didn't stop her pace from slowing once she began to near the room. Glass walls lined the halls and she was able to see inside of each room that she passed. There were kids with broken bones, kids that looked ill and sickly— the girl passed nearly five rooms that instead contained small babies. Little tiny things that were inside of high, precarious cradles. Parents looked on with pained expression inside of each room, and as she got closer to Room 210, the knowledge that such a similar look would be on Aunt Cass' face caused the girl's eyes to only tear up even more.

When she got there, the room was dimly lit. The drapes on the far wall were drawn tightly over the windows, and besides the light streaming through the glass walls, there were no other light sources. But Honey Lemon could plainly see that the others were there already. Gogo was over near the closed window, Fred was standing near the corner with his hands shoved into his pockets, and Wasabi was sitting in a chair beside Aunt Cass, one of the boy's hands having rested itself gently on her shoulder. As Honey Lemon opened the sliding door and stepped timidly inside, each of her friends jerked immediately to look up at her. Yet her attention was fixed mostly on Aunt Cass.

The brunette stiffened immediately as the door opened, and her eyes flooded in panic as she looked up towards the newcomer. The guardian must have been expecting a doctor, as she immediately relaxed when she recognized who actually had come inside. For a moment, Honey Lemon simply lingered in the doorway, unsure of what to do from this point. Aunt Cass' eyes were bright red— the shade almost looked unhealthy. The woman's hair was messy and wild, and her clothes looked thrown-on in a rush. Her face was streaked with tears, and seeing such a bright person reduced to something such as this absolutely stabbed straight through Honey Lemon. The young girl was so struck that she didn't even know what to do.

Cass smiled, though the expression was cracked, and it didn't reach her eyes in any way; it was more of a painful grimace than anything else. "Hey," she said, her voice coming out as a raw croak. Her throat seemed to have been put through far too much abuse for her to sound remotely normal.

Honey Lemon shifted, swallowing thickly as she offered a subtle nod in response. Cass mimicked the movement, pausing and looking down at her hands fisted in her lap as she cleared her throat. "Thank you…f-for coming," she mumbled softly. She turned, as if she wasn't able to look the younger girl in the eye. And her voice began to cave in on itself as she whispered: "I feel so awful for…making you come all the way out here." She ducked down and buried her face down in her hands. "…And when you're on Break too."

The brunette's voice sounded incredibly pained as she said this, and Honey Lemon stepped inside with a brisk pace, turning and sliding the door closed again for privacy. "No! No!" she said in an immediate rush. "Don't worry about a thing. I wanted to come down here. It's perfectly fine." The others mumbled their own agreement as she said this, and when Cass straightened once again, she gave a watery smile that seemed a little bit more genuine than the one she had on before. The older woman wiped at her nose, and silence filled the room as nobody spoke up again. Walking forward, Honey Lemon coughed softly, wincing a little bit as she asked: "How are…how are you doing?"

Cass turned away from her as the question made itself known, her eyes falling back down to the bed she was sitting beside. Up until this point, Honey Lemon had been refusing to look anywhere but to Aunt Cass— for fear of what she would find upon turning. But now she was forced to face what had brought her here— what had woken her up at 7:30 in the morning in the form of a shrilly-ringing phone. She had consciously made the effort not to look, because as soon as she did, and as soon as realization dawned over her, Honey Lemon's knees grew weak and shaky. Her throat closed in on itself, and tears wasted no time at all before rushing into her eyes. It blurred her vision and nearly rendered everything around her smudged and incoherent. But the sight had already made itself known, and, just like the sight of Tadashi Hamada being lowered into the ground, she wondered if she would ever be able to forget what it looked like.

Hiro was…small. He seemed so small. The boy was curled up into a tiny ball on his side, facing towards Aunt Cass. Needles were inserted tightly into the veins in his wrist, and he was hooked up to machines that emitted sharp beeps every now and then, monitoring his vitals. His head was drooped down so that his chin grazed his chest, yet Honey Lemon found herself having to concentrate in order to see the faint rise and fall of his chest that signaled active life. Hiro was as still as stone. Unmoving in every sense of the word, he was almost lost inside of the thick blankets and pillows of the bed.

Honey Lemon raised her hand up to clap it over her mouth, her eyes widening slightly as she faced the tragedy. And slowly, unable to rip her eyes away from the unconscious child, she rasped: "You…how did this happen?" The question was blunt, and under any circumstances, she would have felt guilty for the rash inquiry. But in the moment, as everything slammed into her stomach, sensitivity was that last thing on her mind. She could only stare hollowly at the boy who, just a few sparse months later, had staged a pizza-eating competition with Fred. And won.

Cass grimaced, as if the question brought onto her a kind of physical pain. She ducked her head and tucked a lock of air behind her ear, keeping her eyes trained on her nephew sorrowfully. "He…uhm…I have no idea," she murmured, not daring to raise her voice above a small whisper. She swallowed thickly before going on, picking her words with care and trepidation. "I got up at five to go and check on him. That's what I started doing— I would check on him at midnight, then two, then five, then wake him up at nine. Just to make sure that he wasn't…" She let her words trail away, unable to finish the thought properly.

Honey Lemon was stricken, finally able to turn and look back at Cass. And she was silent as the older woman went on. "I got up to go and check on him. But…I think I knew…as soon as I got up that…that something was wrong. Something wasn't right. And when I went out in the hall, I saw that there was a note on my door. And when I read it—" She broke off abruptly. Looked back down at her hands. Cringed deeply. Honey Lemon stiffened in concern and silence filled the room, nobody daring to break it as Cass' eyes closed tightly.

The blonde looked over at Gogo, at a loss of what to do. But the shorter girl looked just as defeated. She only held her gaze and offered a small shrug. What _could_ they do, really?

After about two full minutes of silence, Cass kept talking. Honey Lemon felt guilty— as if she was forcing the woman to do something that she would rather not. But as she soon as she opened her mouth to try and tell her it was okay, Cass was speaking again. "I ran up to his room, but he wasn't in there. I looked in the closet, in the bathroom, in the kitchen…he didn't seem to be anywhere. So I went down into the bakery, and…and he was there." Her voice heightened with this, hitching on itself. "I called the ambulance as soon as I realized. …There wasn't much else I could do."

"But he's okay now?" Honey Lemon pressed, looking at Hiro's limp form anxiously. "He's going to be alright?"

Cass perked. Her head lifted and she turned to look someplace past the girl. Blinking, Honey Lemon turned to follow her stare, jumping as she realized that there was somebody else inside of the room that she hadn't noticed at all up until now. It was a Hospital worker, going by the looks of the bright-pink scrubs that were dotted over with cute starfish. She was a younger girl, her hair tied back into a tight bun. She was seated in the corner with her hands folded in her lap neatly, and only now did she choose to speak up. "We're watching him," she assured Honey Lemon, seeming to look past the girl's expression of stark confusion. "Every thirty minutes, we do a scan on his vitals and his heart. If there's a problem, then we'll be sure to know as soon as it happens."

Honey Lemon didn't reply, only looking at the new person with a blank stare.

Aunt Cass cleared her throat. "Honey Lemon, this is our Sitter for now."

"Sitter." The word was repeated slowly, as if it was a novel term.

Wasabi spoke this time, as if to alleviate the strain of doing such from Cass. "Sitters come in and sit with cases like this. It's a regulatory thing."

The Sitter smiled sweetly, though Honey Lemon's forehead only creased. "You won't notice me much. I have a book." The girl gestured to the counter she sat beside, signaling out the small leather-bound thing resting there. "I won't bother you." She had a clipboard beside her as well, which already had a few scribbles down its pages. Notes that probably held at least some kind of importance, but from here was mere chicken scratch.

But Honey Lemon was still hung up over the words used. "'Cases like these?'" she asked softly.

The woman blinked, as if surprised by the question. "Patients who are dangerous."

She turned, looking back at Hiro with a pained stare, remembering what short yet fun times they had.

But the worker seemed to take her silence as further confusion. Because she elaborated further, and drove the final nail home. Made everything set in stone, and suddenly much more permanent. "Children that are suicidal."

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It didn't seem possible. Or at the very least, it didn't seem possible to have happened to them. To her and her nephew. But it had. Once again she found herself seated at a Hospital bedside, her stomach in knots and her throat burning as if she had swallowed a white-hot iron. Once again she was revisited by the bleeping of the heart monitors, and the muffled hustle and bustle of the ICU on the other side of the glassed wall. Like last time, Hiro was unconscious and oblivious. The doctors said he could wake up any minute after sleeping for so long so far. But right now she supposed it just wasn't time.

Sitting beside the Hospital bed, the woman's mind was shrouded in darkness. From where he had reached out to hold Hiro's limp hand in hers, Cass let out a shaking breath, searching her nephew's face anxiously. She could not divert her mind from what had happened this morning. How she had rushed downstairs, only to see Hiro's crumpled form spread out behind the display case of pastries, an emptied bottle of his anti-depressant pills discarded nearby.

She remembered she had let out a blood-curdling scream as soon as she laid eyes on him, yet the noise had not even registered to her nephew. She remembered such a fact was what had made things all the more horrifying. She had called the ambulance, only saying a few sparse words before she had been rendered unable to stand, collapsing to the ground and scrabbling at Hiro's form frantically. Bile had stained itself on Hiro's sweatshirt and down the side of his face, and even as Cass had shaken her nephew he had remained oblivious. She had screamed and screeched, yet it hadn't mattered.

When the ambulance arrived, her nephew had been wrenched away from her. She was left to scramble blindly after, holding the small post-it note that had been left on her door tightly in her hands, as if the paper was some sort of lifeline between her and Hiro. She had ridden in the ambulance, thoroughly shocked as she could only stare emptily at Hiro as the paramedics worked. As they had struggled to keep her baby breathing.

They had pumped his stomach as soon as they had arrived.

Sixty. That was how many he had swallowed in total. Sixty pills. The doctors had said that most of it was comprised of anti-depressants, yet there was also a few others. Things like pain medication or muscle relaxers. Other bottles that had been stored in roughly the same spot that his medicine had been. His heart had not stopped like it had before, but the doctors had made it clear that Cass had been a hair's length away from losing her last remaining nephew. Again. And now here she was. Again. Her heart in her throat and her stomach having sunken low down to the ground.

She had been sitting in this chair since 6:30 this morning, and it felt as if she hadn't moved a single muscle. Her entire body was aching in stiffness, though whenever any of the kids had offered to take over her spot at Hiro's bedside, she always refused them. She didn't dare move away from her nephew, resolute in sticking close beside the young boy. She even turned down the offer of food, despite the fact that it was past one in the afternoon by now. Gogo and Honey Lemon had left for the café just a few minutes ago, having asked the others what they wanted to eat. Fred had requested a burger, while Wasabi had just said a simple: 'Surprise me.'

The two teenagers had asked Cass if she wanted anything. But just the thought of food caused her stomach to clench.

They had left a few minutes ago. Wasabi had left for the bathroom down the hall, and Fred was currently staring out the window, watching with a heavy stare as more and more snow pelted its way down. It had started a few hours ago— there had to be at least five inches outside already. The Hospital's ICU hallway was decorated in wreathes and Christmas lights, and all of the nurses that filtered in and out of the rooms kept conversing about how Christmas was almost here. There had been about fifty comments about the weather since it had all picked up. Though, when you thought about it, other than weather, there wasn't much else they could talk about, really. They could probably take anything else to converse over rather than talk about the actual situation at hand.

Cass sighed heavily, turning and looking down at Hiro with a pained grimace. He was still sleeping, curled up tightly in that same uncomfortable-looking position. His hair was messy and wild, going every which way at once. She sniffed and leaned over, reaching out and trying to tame his awry locks. It was a vain effort, but it kept her busy. And it kept her touching her nephew, causing relief to slowly overcome her as she realized that yes, he was still alive, and yes, he was still here. Despite everything, such an idea helped just a little bit.

She remembered one of the last few fights they had had inside of the bakery. It was back when Hiro had gotten home from the other Hospital. 'You know when I sang you that song?' he had asked her softly. Her nephew had been angry then, his eyes slightly narrowed as he looked at her in that same distant fashion. 'When I was little. For Mother's Day.' She had said she remembered— how could she forget such a wonderful day? To have spent such a long time with her little nephew, and to see him get up with his classmates to sing for her. She treasured the memory, just like she did every other day she had shared with her little guy.

Such a question had not prepared her for the reply. The acid tone, the cruel twist of words.

'I remember it too.'

How could her smiling nephew had turned…into this? Into something so…sad, so angry? She grimaced and reached up to rub at her eyes. Drawing her hand though her nephew's hair slowly, Cass sniffed again, swallowing as she surveyed his unconscious state. Reluctantly, leaning over so that she could rest her head near Hiro, she coughed softly in the back of her throat before speaking. Her voice was raw and rasping against her throat. And as her voice rose up and down, she could hear how cracked and fractured it came out to be.

But nonetheless, singing softly underneath her breath, she kept running her hand through his hair gently, trying to focus on that and only that. "_In all my dreams dear….you seem to leave me._ _When I wake, my poor heart aches. So won't you come back…and make me happy? I'll forgive dear, I'll take all the blame._" She was aware that, at her murmuring, Fred had turned over and away from the window. He must have been confused, but she didn't turn around. The Sitter shifted in her chair, though to Cass' distant relief she did not look up from the book she was reading, only bringing the novel a little bit closer to her face.

Cass stroked her nephew's cheek gently with her index finger, her expression morose as she continued just as quietly. "_You are my sunshine. My only sunshine. You make me happy…when skies are gray. You'll never know dear…how much I love you. Please don't take my sunshine away._" Her voice folded in on itself, and tears spilled out over her own cheeks as she pulled her hand away. Fred blinked, his face having fallen the more he watched the scene, yet he didn't speak up. He only stood in the corner of the room by the window, his hands clasped together solemnly in front of him. Cass reached up, sitting back upright as she buried her head in her hands, squeezing her eyes shut tightly as her shoulders shook.

Silence filled the room back up again, broken only by the occasional soft gasp or sniffle from Cass.

But, after a few minutes, there was another noise. The small shifting of weight as the blankets of the Hospital bed rustled. Cass jerked at the slight change, her head snapping up from where it was hung as she blinked rapidly. Hiro had twisted awkwardly, his fuzzy, hazed-over eyes blinking open to a half-lidded, vacant stare. His forehead creased initially as he grimaced against the dim light of the Hospital room, but after a second he blinked groggily, his eyes moving over as they took their time in focusing on his aunt.

Cass was stiff and rigid, her eyes three times their normal size as she remained still. She hardly even realized that she was holding her breath before she watched her nephew in a form of shock. Her mouth was halfway open, but she couldn't wrap her mind around what she could possibly say or do. She could only stare at him numbly, tears smearing themselves over her face as they blipped down from her reddened eyes. And gradually, Hiro started to mumble, his face clouded over in confusion as his lips hardly moved.

"Aunt…Aunt Cass?" he slurred, his words dragging like stones.

The Sitter perked immediately as Hiro spoke up, looking alarmed.

Cass reached up, hurriedly wiping at her face as she cleared her throat. "H-Hiro," she stammered out quickly, only managing the lame pronunciation of his name. "Y-You're awake."

The boy blinked, his head still drooping awkwardly to the side as his vacant eyes rested on Cass a little distantly. His forehead creased, and again he blinked, as if he was trying to wade through the sheer amount of confusion that seemed to be swamping over him. "You're…" He leaned forward a little bit, looking a little nauseated. "…Why are you crying?"

Cass crumbled even more at this, the woman closing her eyes and shaking her head rapidly as even more tears gushed down her face. Fred pushed himself off the window, standing upright as he had gone stiff. The Sitter got up from her chair and started forward— in the back of her mind, Cass wished she could get up and ask her to sit back down. She wished she could ask for a few minutes alone with Hiro. Before doctors and nurses were coming and going and getting in between her and her nephew. But she couldn't. And as the Sitter started to come nearer to the bed in order to press the Call button, Cass ducked her head further, grimacing in a deep kind of pain.

This only seemed to confuse Hiro more. "…what's wrong?" he slurred, tilting his head deeper into his pillow. "What's— why are you crying?"

Cass did not answer for a few seconds. The Sitter drew back from the wall after pressing the small button, her expression saddened as she looked from the boy to the woman. Hiro was staring at her oddly, that same vague look on his face that he had had the last time that he had woken up in the Hospital. And taking into consideration the fact that, so far, he displayed absolutely no aggression, it was clear that he was very out of it. And looking up at her nephew's face, she was, in some kind of ironic twist, able to see the old Hiro. The boy whose face was not creased in anger or crumpled in sorrow. As numb as his expression was, and as fuzzy as his eyes were, he looked as normal as Aunt Cass had seen him in a very long time. He had slept through his haze last time he had been in the Hospital. But now he was awake. And he was staring right at her.

Her lower lip trembling, Cass hesitated, glancing out the hall. She wondered how long it would take before a nurse came in from being paged. The woman took in quick gasp, turning and looking back at her nephew as her expression grew heavy and sorrowful. And, her voice slightly layered in fear, she whispered out a small, pathetic question. "…Can I…can I hug you?" she murmured, reaching up and wiping at her eyes. Hiro didn't reply at first, as if he was having to focus in order to make sense of the question. Feeling a sense of rising heartache, Cass reinstated her question, the volume of her voice raising. "Can I hug you, honey?"

Hiro stirred, looking surprised. "Can you…? Yeah— of course you can hug me." He sounded shocked, as if he wasn't sure where this was going. He shifted, as if trying to move into a more comfortable position. But as he tried to move, he faltered, looking down at himself with a distressed noise. His eyes landed on the wires that were needled into his skin deeply, and his forehead creased yet again as he lifted his left arm, his eyes flickering over the mess with an expression of slight fear. But it seemed to slip his drugged mind as he merely let the limb fall back down to the bed, turning with a small sigh as he looked back at his aunt. And blinking a few times, he offered her a smile. The grin would have been cute and silly under any other circumstance— in doing so, it was more like he was baring his teeth, showing every single tooth in the process. But the expression went back to normal as he started to speak. "You can always hug me. All the time. I love hugs from you," he murmured loosely.

Cass swallowed thickly, rising up from her chair and ducking forward. She wrapped her arms around her nephew's frail figure and pulling close down to the young boy. She ducked her head, pressing her forehead down into Hiro's shoulder as yet another flinch came over her. Hiro blinked, limp for a second as Cass held him. Gradually he raised his right arm, the one that was not hindered by wires, and draped it over Cass' back. There wasn't any pressure to the motion— Cass didn't think that, with all the chemicals inside of him at the moment, he could manage to apply any type of force.

Cass did not want to let go. For a heartbeat or more, she was actually under the impression that she couldn't manage such a feat. But after a few seconds, there was a small cough from nearer to the door, and a quiet voice came from the threshold of the room. "Cass Hamada?" Cass withdrew at this, only pausing a moment more to plant a kiss on Hiro's cheek. She pulled back and straightened, looking over to see another nurse standing in the hall, having paused to wait for their attention before barging in. And when the brunette did turn to look at the scrub-clad worker, the woman smiled politely. "Cass Hamada? If you don't mind, I'd like to talk to Hiro for a few minutes."

Cass blinked, looking down at Hiro. The boy was staring off into space for the moment, his attention lapsing. She shifted and nodded a little reluctantly, stepping a little bit away from the bed to give her space. "Uhm…sure. Of course— go ahead."

The woman nodded graciously. The Sitter, having performed her part it seemed, turned and retreated back to sit down in her corner, starting to scribble down notes on her clipboard once she was settled. Her novel remained untouched on the table this time. "Hello, Hiro," the newcomer said brightly, going over to stand on the other side of the boy's bed. Hiro roused at this, his head lolling to the side as he tried to locate who was speaking. Catching the hazed movements and attention, the woman turned and looked over at Cass. "It's only normal for him to be out of it right now. He'll be tired and groggy for a while, too. But that's only typical."

Cass nodded, but the woman had already turned back down to her child. "Hello Hiro; my name is Ayumi. I'll be your nurse for a while until my shift ends— but that isn't for a while now." Clearing her throat, she glanced over the monitors with a keen eye. "Now…do you know where you are, dear?" she asked gently, focusing her attention wholeheartedly on the patient.

Hiro shifted, his eyes flickering groggily over the spacious room. He didn't reply.

Ayumi just nodded again. "You're downtown in the Hospital. Do you know why?"

Hiro winced. He stared off into space, and Cass could almost see the boy wracking his mind for an answer. But he still didn't manage reply.

"You took a bunch of pills," she reminded him, her voice unnaturally light as she said this. Cass looked away with this; Fred had walked over to stand beside the woman now as he departed from the window. "Far more than you were supposed to. So now we're waiting for all the chemicals to get out of your body. We pumped your stomach this morning, but there's still a lot left. Do you know what day it is?"

Hiro shook his head limply.

"I'll ask you that again later— you be thinking of that, okay?" she requested neatly. She was moving on before Hiro could answer. "Now, you can't have anything to eat, I'm afraid. You're not allowed food or anything like that until everything is flushed out of your system. You got it? It sucks, I know; but unfortunately, it's a little more than needed at the moment." Ayumi paused, contemplating for a moment or two more. But then she turned and shot Cass an apologetic smile. "We need to do some tests on him," she said, a little hesitantly. "Once the other doctors get here, I'm going to have to ask you to leave for a little bit."

Cass started, looking down at Hiro as she bit down on her lip. But, figuring that it was harmless enough, she gave a small nod. "…Okay," she said, glancing at Fred. "Yeah— sure, it's…it's no problem. We can step out I guess." Fred was staring at Hiro, slightly perplexed, as if he was just being introduced to the young boy. But at Cass' hint, he straightened, giving a nod as he hesitated a second more, looking at Hiro one last time before turning and ducking out of the room. The hallway was substantial in the ICU— you could wander through the halls for a while as long as you weren't on your phone or causing a disturbance in some way. But Fred veered off the right towards the bathroom— he must have been heading off to tell Wasabi what had happened while he was gone.

Cass looked down at Hiro, her stare weighted. She leaned over and placed a hand gently on her nephew's shoulder, rousing him as he turned over to look up at her blearily. And though tears still blinked their way down her cheeks, she offered him a small smile, as pinched and strained as it was. "I'll be right back…okay baby?" she asked, her voice soft. "…I'll be right back."

A trace of a worn smile flickered over his features. "Okay."

She lingered a heartbeat more. But she had to turn, sniffing and rubbing her eyes as she headed out for the hallway as well. Ayumi, who had been watching the scene unfold, cleared her throat, catching Cass' attention as the woman was halfway through the door. Pausing mid-step and looking over her shoulder, Cass blinked as her eyes clashed with the nurse's. Ayumi was looking at her with sorrow in her features. With pity. "I'm very sorry you have to see him like this," she murmured.

Cass worked up a smile, though she had no idea where it came from. And, trying to make light of the situation, she replied with a small: "It's okay."

"No," Ayumi said, her voice suddenly turned hard as Cass quieted under the rather stern stare. "No," she repeated. "It's not."

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By the time they were allowed back into the room, Honey Lemon and Gogo had returned with food. Wasabi had come back from the bathroom, and, meeting up with Cass and Fred, they had started out just lingering next to the room. It was impossible to see what was going on in the room, as the curtains around Hiro's bed had been drawn, and the glass door had been slid shut. The doctors had long since filed in to check on her nephew, and now all Cass had to do was wait to be told they could go in.

However, when Gogo and Honey Lemon had returned with food, they had all decided to shift their party over into the waiting room instead. There they could eat at the tables and talk freely, rather than juggle the take-out carriers and remain absolutely silent in the halls. True enough that things in terms of conversation weren't really all that rich even when they sat clustered around the smaller chairs and tables, but at least it wasn't _as_tense as it could be.

Cass was not eating— she had told the two girls that she couldn't stomach much of anything, and she was still sticking by that idea, even as the other kids delved into their own meals. She merely sat, balancing her chin on the palm of her hand as she bit down on her lower lip. Gogo, who was hunched over a bowl of noodles, glanced up after a moment or two. Before now the group had been plunged into silence. Despite the fact that what had happened was now weighing over them, nobody had tried to speak audibly of it yet.

"So…what now?" Gogo asked, the entire group snapping to attention as soon as she started.

Cass had been distracted. The woman had turned, looking over to the side as she watched the goings-on in the waiting room. She was currently looking over into the section of the room that was made to resemble a log cabin. There was a little girl sitting neatly on top of one of the wooden chairs, seated in front of the built-in gaming consoles. Sitting up straight and tall, she was currently knee-deep in a game of digital Solitaire. Looking around in the waiting room, Cass could see one other person— a man who was pacing back and forth in an agitated manner. He kept glancing over into the halls on the other side of the glass door, mumbling incoherent thing under his breath.

The father seemed to be dealing with something heavy, going by the way he was so worked-up.

The little girl seemed unbothered. More focused on her gaming system than anything else.

Cass wished that she could have such luck. She wished she could be just as blissfully oblivious.

She was roused by Gogo's question however. Turning back to face front, she blinked rapidly, sighing as she picked her head back up from her hand. "Oh…uhm…" She cleared her throat, reaching up to tuck a lock of flyaway hair behind her ear. "He's…uhm, he's being checked out by the doctors now. They'll tell us when they're finished, and then afterwards…" She paused and eventually gave a lame shrug of the shoulders. "…Then I guess…we just wait."

Wasabi shifted a little nervously. "And…he doesn't remember anything?"

"Well, with all of the chemicals in his body and after everything that's happened, he isn't able to function yet," Cass replied. "He's recovering, and the doctors have said that it'll last for a while. Things will probably wear off sometime early tomorrow morning. That's what they've told me, at least. And he was like this a little bit last time, though. I guess the only difference was that last time he mostly just slept through it all. With all the uhm…" She coughed. "With all the blood loss." She paused before going on. "But this time he's awake."

"He was way out everything," Fred said, adding his own two cents into the conversation. "He didn't know what day it was or what happened or even where he was here in the first place." The others silenced at this, exchanging glances between one another. Fred hesitated a moment more before ducking back down into his sandwich, picking up the burger again. And, taking another bite, his eyes narrowed a little bit as he looked down at the table top. "…It was really weird. Actually," he mumbled. He started up a slow nod, chewing his bite with a look of slow sadness crawling over the usually-happy boy's face. "…Weird."

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Hiro was still awake when they were let back into the room. The medical team had left, and the Sitter apparently had helped him go to the bathroom in the attempt to help flush the chemicals out faster. Results of the tests would be told to her later, Cass was sure. But now she was just relieved to be able to be let back into the Hospital room. To walk over the threshold and see Hiro, as faded as he still was. To be reminded that yes, he had survived. That he was still here. And though her eyes had been blurred over in tears ever since she had gotten up this morning, Cass found a smile coming over her face at the sight of her nephew.

The Sitter offered them a smile as they walked back in. But, as per her requirements, she was mostly silent. Just observing. Honey Lemon was the only person in their group to smile back, and even go so far as to offer a small wave in her direction. Cass' eyes were all on Hiro as soon as she had walked through the glass door, and she immediately took her customary chair at his bedside. Honey Lemon and Gogo took the other rolling chairs around the bed. Wasabi and Fred stood, as there wasn't really any other option for them. All the other chairs had been taken.

"Hiro?" Cass asked, once activity settled. Hiro seemed to not hear her at first, but after a second recognition seemed to spark in his dull eyes. He turned his head limply to look over at her, smiling upon laying eyes on the woman. She smiled as well, reaching over and brushing his stubborn bangs away from his eyes. "Hiro, honey, you've got visitors," she explained lightly. "You see? They're all very worried about you."

Hiro turned at this, blinking rapidly as surprise entered his expression. He turned, realizing for the first time that there were more people in the room. The teenagers all took up the lead themselves, waving and murmuring a chorus of soft greetings for the boy they had come to see. The side of Hiro's mouth moved up in a sort of half-smile, but after a second it disappeared. His face clouded over instead, and Cass immediately stiffened upon seeing the change. She started to open her mouth, wondering whether or not she could try and delve into whatever was happening in her child's mind. But before she could, Hiro spoke first, his voice slightly heightened in concern. "…I lost?"

It was their turn to be confused.

Fred's eyebrows pulled together. "What?" he asked, exchanging a puzzled look with Wasabi.

Hiro shifted, his arm tugging on the wires seated into his wrist. He flinched a little bit, but seemed to move past it as he just turned again to look anxiously around the room. "Did I lose the...did I lose the Showcase?" he slurred, seeming upset over the very idea. Cass frowned, looking morose over the question. The others seemed to share the same issue as they looked downcast. Hiro frowned, reaching up with his right arm and rubbing at his eyes blearily. "Did they not like my Microbots?" he asked. "I worked really hard on them…"

Wasabi was the only person not to share in the saddened mood. Instead, he just grinned, waving it away like it was nothing. "Don't you worry, Little Man," Wasabi said smoothly. "They loved your invention! They ate it up like it was ice cream! You were the star of the show; don't you remember?" Hiro started to contemplate this, and Cass watched as his apprehensive stare started to sharpen back into a small smile. "You swept the thing. Come on! It's you we're talking about! How could you have lost?"

Hiro seemed very pleased with himself. A large smile spread over his face. "I did?" he asked. "I won? That's awesome! I can't believe it." A small giggle came up from his mouth, but it sounded drier and coarser than what he would give on a normal basis. It caused Cass' heart to clench, but she cleared her throat and pasted a smile on her face anyway. However, Hiro's next question caused the grin to waver immediately. And even Wasabi, who had remained the most optimistic this entire time, seemed a tad deflated. "Where's Tadashi?" Hiro asked, the large beam still on his face. He turned his head from side to side, which looked as if it took quite a lot of effort for the child. Nonetheless, he searched for his older brother, looking eager to see him. And why wouldn't he? To him, with his lack of memory, why wouldn't his older brother be with his old friends?

When nobody replied, Hiro seemed to grow uncertain. "…Is Tadashi not here?" he asked slowly. Honey Lemon looked down at her hands. Wasabi shoved his hands into his pockets. "Did…did Tadashi not see my Microbots?"

Cass spoke up. She leaned over and rubbed her hand comfortingly over Hiro's shoulder. "Tadashi went to the bathroom, honey," she said gently. Wasabi looked alarmed at the falsehood, yet Gogo seemed to follow Cass' train of thought as she only frowned. "He'll be back in a little bit, but right now he had to leave for a while. But he saw your Microbots." She smiled, and sniffed, reaching up and rubbing at her eyes quickly. "He loved them very much. He was very proud of you— you know that," she said, trying her absolute best to be bracing for him. Though she prayed that her voice did not waver.

It seemed to work. Hiro smiled, his eyes going soft. "I know," he said, his voice turning mushy as weariness combined with affection. "He's always like that." His head drooped to the side, looking to the other wall as his neck suddenly went limp. The boy sighed airily, the grin unfaltering on his lips. "He's such a giant nerd," he added warmly. Cass winced at the tone of voice that was used, and as Gogo studied the woman's features, she noticed that there was a very prominent source of guilt in her gaze as she studied her nephew. However, she did not try and backtrack or fix what she had said. She let it lie where it was.

"Do you feel okay, honey?" Cass asked instead. "Do you feel bad? Sick? Can I do something for you?"

"What day is it?" Hiro asked, completely ignoring the question altogether. That, or he just hadn't heard in the first place. He looked from one person to the other, his face suddenly swamped in puzzlement again. His moods, the topics he spoke about…the entire boy in general seemed to fly from one end of the spectrum to the other. He wasn't able to stay on one thing for very long, it looked like.

"It's Tuesday, Hiro," Honey Lemon answered helpfully.

Hiro frowned. "…Don't you guys have to be at school?" he asked.

"We're on Break," Wasabi replied. "We don't have school for few more weeks, buddy."

He nodded. He looked as if he took the information seriously— not with any kind of grain of salt. "Oh," he mumbled out of the corner of his mouth. "…Then…am I on Break too?"

The students fell silent with this. As anxious as Cass had been to resort to lying to her nephew, they weren't as sure what to do when a situation was brought forward such as this. A couple of them glanced quickly at Cass, while the rest seemed to be trying to find a clever answer that could lead them away from the conversation. It wasn't a very tactful reaction to a question, so thankfully Cass broke through their mental block as she cleared her throat and reiterated herself. "Baby, look at me," she requested softly. Hiro blinked, starting at her voice as he turned back over to her. She reached out and again brushed aside those pesky bangs, made even more annoying thanks to how messy his hair was. "Do you feel okay?" she asked again. "I wanna know whether or not I can do anything for you."

Hiro blinked. "I mean— my stomach hurts. My head. My arm— what's this stuff in my arm?" He turned away with this, oblivious to Cass' short sigh at his spastic awareness. He lifted up his left arm, watching as the wires connected into his skin pulled along with it. He did this for a few seconds, watching it with an expression that resembled somebody witnessing a television for the first time. "I don't— I don't know what this is," he rambled on. "Can they get it off me? Like— I don't…I just don't know what it is, you know? That's all I'm saying." His words got quieter the longer that he talked.

"You need that stuff in your arm, honey," Cass replied. "It keeps you feeling better."

Hiro huffed. "But I don't feel better. Get it out of my arm."

Cass kept running her hand through his hair. Hiro fell silent, his eyes starting to become unfocused again as he took to staring off into space. The other kids took up a conversation, talking about things like the weather or reminding him how close Christmas was to being here. Of course such topics were the first ones broached— that was all that anybody talked about in the Hospital. If only for lack of anything better to focus on. Anything brighter, or anything that was…well, not what was happening right in front of you. But for all their efforts, Hiro was not listening, and it was obvious that he wasn't. Though if anybody noticed it, they gave no sign of such a thing.

Fred had broken off from the weather discussion – which was a good thing, because Honey Lemon and Gogo were starting to get close to getting into a fight about global warming – and he had launched off into a tangent. Even Cass had lost track of what he had been talking about, but as she started to refocus, she could only assume that it was a story of mass importance. That, or at least originality. "And so there I was, holding two hotdogs— one in each hand. The baby was screaming, the dog was having a fit, and the alligator was coming straight for us, you know? So what I did next was the best part, I—"

"Hiro, are you okay?" Gogo interrupted, looking concerned as she studied the boy.

Looking down at him, Cass realized with a pang that his skin had paled significantly into a sickly color. His eyes were still unfocused, yet she made the connection as his face started to be overcome by a deep frown. Where her hand was ghosting through his hair, Cass could feel that he was starting to burn up, and hurriedly she snatched her arm back to herself. She turned instead and shot for the ground, her arm reaching for the thing she knew had to be somewhere. "Help him sit up," she ordered, her voice clipped and a little harsher than she intended it to be. The kids started at this, Fred completely abandoning his story, and she repeated the instructions a second time. "Help him sit up!"

Honey Lemon dashed forward, being the first to follow directions as she grabbed hold of his shoulder gently, pushing him up as gently as possible while still being firm. Wasabi moved next, and he weaved around Cass to get to the other side as help from there. Together, the two pushed Hiro up from a laying-down position, to a sitting one, and he grew even greener as he was forced into the pose. Cass sat up, holding the small basin that the nurses had left behind in case there was an emergency of some kind. And quickly, she leaned over and held the thing up so that it rested underneath his chin. Her eyes were shadowed with worry and pain, and her voice was strained when she spoke up. "It's okay, Hiro," she comforted. "It's okay, honey."

Hiro was still for a few moments more. But after the pause he finally jerked forward, his head ducking as he got violently sick. His face was immediately written over in deep pain, and Cass' expression nearly resembled his as she watched him heave and choke. She moved, still holding up the basin with one hand as she used the other to rub comforting circles on his back, wishing she could do more to somehow ease his suffering. But then again she had been wishing such a thing for quite a long time now, and it hadn't worked out so far.

It seemed to stretch on for ages. Yet when the wave finally did pass, it left Hiro shaking and trembling from head to toe. His skin was a sickening gray color, and as the two friends lowered him back down gingerly, he seemed dizzy and weaker. Cass turned and started to set the basin down on the ground. However a quiet voice spoke up, and she straightened as she realized that the Sitter had gotten up from her chair to go over and reach out for the bucket. "I can take that," she said sweetly, taking it nearly before Cass could reply.

"Oh— thank you," Cass said, smiling awkwardly as she handed off the thing.

The Sitter nodded, turning and stepping out into the hall to dispose of the bile.

Turning back, Cass winced as she looked at Hiro. And, leaning down to rub her hand softly on his knee that was hidden underneath the blankets, she gave a soft whisper of sorrow. "I'm sorry, honey," she murmured. "…I'm sorry that you're so sick. I really am." Far more sorry than she could properly show. Because she had let this happen. She had let Hiro get so sick— not only physically, but mentally as well. How could she had been so stupid? To allow such a thing like this to occur?

Hiro grimaced, and when he spoke, his voice sounded much frailer than it had been before. Cass pictured each individual word dropping out of his mouth and falling down to shatter on the ground. "Can I have something to drink?" he asked, the first thing that a child would ask after such an event occurring. And immediately the woman was swamped with an obscene amount of guilt.

"I'm sorry, honey," she murmured, grimacing. "…You can't have anything. Remember?"

Hiro gave a low, pathetic whine at this. He reached up with his right arm and pressed his palm against his forehead, closing his eyes tightly. But, unlike the past few months, Hiro listened. He dropped the subject as well as his arm, and merely took to spacing out and staring off once more.

How ironic that the only time he listened was when he was out of his depth.

When it was pretty much too late.

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Hiro stayed up for the rest of the day. Cass repeatedly tried to persuade him to go back to sleep, but it was a fruitless effort regardless as he only ignored her. It was all for naught just as well— his attention was so flyaway and spastic that even if he turned and rolled over to try and sleep, he would probably just sit right back up again. So Cass held her tongue, despite the fact that she knew sleep would do her little boy much better. He had thrown up three more times since the first one— if he would just sleep through everything and not talk as much it would be a little bit easier on him.

"Aunt Cass." Cass straightened as the small whisper reached her ears. She turned, looking over at Hiro with a kind stare. She had been holding her nephew's hand for the past few hours— to her surprise and slight nostalgia, he hadn't even tried to wriggle his hand back yet. Hiro's head was slack to look over at her, his eyes still just as hazy. Despite how many hours had ticked by, he was still as muffled.

"Yes, honey?" she hummed, rubbing her thumb over her his hand sweetly.

Hiro seemed a little frustrated now. "Aunt Cass…where's Tadashi?" he mumbled grouchily.

Cass deflated. She ducked her head and sighed softly, looking down and trying to focus on the way her thumb was moving over his skin. "…I already told you, honey," she said, choosing her words carefully. "Tadashi's in the bathroom. He'll be back soon. He's just taking a little bit longer than normal, that's all."

Hiro seemed distressed. "He's been in there for a long time," he whined. "Tell him to come back."

Cass grinned— a fragile and sorrowful kind of beam. "Sure thing, sweetie."

Gogo spoke up from where she stood next to the window, her arms crossed over her chest as she eyed the area outside. "It's sure snowing a lot," she commented, one eyebrow arching in a skeptical kind of expression. "It hasn't stopped since this afternoon." She scowled, making a frustrated noise in the back of her throat. "My car is going to be ten feet under snow by the time I get home."

Cass blinked rapidly. "Oh— do you want to go?" she asked. "You really don't have to stay. You've been here all day, I feel so guilty."

Gogo turned, glancing over her shoulder. She immediately began to turn down the woman's admission of stress. Yet while the two dissolved into conversation, Fred seemed to show that he wasn't all that interested. "Hey, Hiro!" he called, the teenager jerking as he tried to locate where the other had gone. His eyes finally landed and focused on the other, who had wandered over to stand by the sink. Hiro's lips twitched into a faint smile as he saw that the teenager was fiddling with one of the plastic gloves that were dispensed from the wall. Once Hiro's attention was caught, Fred wriggled his eyebrows and leaned down, pulling the glove to his mouth as he blew air into the thing.

It was fully inflated after a few seconds, and as Fred hurriedly tied the end of it into a knot, Hiro gave out a small giggle. Obviously pleased by the reaction, Fred grinned, throwing up the glove into the air and hitting it over to the boy with enough force so that could reach where the boy was resting. Hiro blinked, having to focus in order to keep track where the plastic floated. Cass turned at this, watching carefully as Hiro took his right arm away from her to reach slowly up into the air. He obviously held the intent of tapping the thing back over to Fred in a game of catch. However, rather than hitting the makeshift balloon back to its thrower, his hand passed straight through the air instead, nearly two whole inches off from its target. The balloon plopped down onto the bed instead, and Hiro's arm fell limply as well, going through nothing but air.

He looked slightly disappointed. A frown came over his face and he looked down at the glove with a discontent expression. "Oh…" He looked up at Fred with a frown. "I missed," he stated.

Fred offered a laugh. "That's okay," he said dismissively. "Try and hit it back."

Hiro obeyed. He looked down and moved his right arm to pick up the balloon. He tried to mimic Fred's actions by throwing it up into the air and hitting it. But once again his aim was wildly off. He tried again, and again. Each time he seemed to get more and more frustrated. Finally he moved his other arm to try and help him, holding it with his right arm and slapping it with the left. But in the process of doing such, he suddenly gave a loud yelp, grimacing. The needles seated in his wrist became detached at the sharp movement, and as soon as they were separated from his skin, the monitors immediately snapped into panic. The monitors keeping track of his vitals began to wail and shrill loudly, while his heartbeat monitor went flat. Cass immediately stiffened in panic, and Hiro looked down at his wrist, his face pinched in misty pain.

"Hiro, are you okay?" Cass demanded.

Hiro blinked slowly, trying to turn and reach for the balloon again. "Hang on— I gotta…I gotta hit this back."

"No, honey—" she tried, grimacing. "You really need to—"

Quicker than anticipated, a nurse let herself into the room briskly. At first she seemed frazzled, but upon surveying the scene and realizing that had happened, she blinked, letting out a gusty sigh. "Geez!" she exclaimed, half-smiling as she walked over to the patient's bedside. "I guess your wires came out, then." The smile dissipated after a second, and as the nurse took his arm and put it back where it was supposed to be, she started to try and fix what had gotten undone. "You really need to keep your arm still, okay? If you move it, all these needles come out, and then we can't see whether or not you're going alright. Okay?"

Hiro grimaced as she seated the needles back where they were supposed to be. "I was trying to hit the…hit the balloon," he mumbled out of the corner of his mouth.

The nurse nodded, though it was clear by the look on her face that she wasn't pleased with the reply. She glanced over to the inflated glove and gave a small sigh. "You can't move your arm, alright?" she reminded gently but sternly. "You've gotta keep it still. If you can't keep it still, I have a board I can put over it to keep it in place. But I don't think you need that, do you?" She withdrew after a few minutes of fiddling, patting his arm with a small tap. "Can you keep it still for me?"

Hiro paused. Wasabi thought at first he hadn't heard as he did not react. But eventually he gave a small nod.

The nurse mimicked the movement. Then she turned, clearing her throat as she looked at Aunt Cass. "Now— as long as I'm here I might as well check in," she mused. "Has he gotten sick since the last time I came in?" Cass shook her head— the nurse's visit was not just an hour and a half ago. Nothing much had changed since then. "Any changes at all? Mood swings? His attention to detail still seems a little warped. Is he still having a hard time talking?"

"He's still out of it, yeah," Cass answered softly. "And I think he's starting get a better handle on talking…sometimes he just hits a wall and can't get what he wants to say out. But his pauses are getting shorter and shorter, so…" She paused and backtracked a little bit. "But he's getting much better. Yes."

"Still asking for food?" the nurse asked.

"Not as much as he is for water," Cass responded almost at once.

The nurse nodded. She turned and offered the boy a small smile. "Don't worry, Hiro," she assured. "It won't be too much longer before you can have something. Okay?"

Hiro seemed to find the detail trivial. Instead he looked at the nurse with slightly narrowed eyes. "Can you…can I ask you something?" he slurred.

The nurse blinked, seeming surprised. "Of course you can," she assured him swiftly.

Hiro sighed slowly. "Is Tadashi still in the bathroom?" he asked. "…Can you tell him to come out? I'm waiting for him."

The nurse looked confused at this. She blinked, looking over at Aunt Cass in confusion. The brunette winced, giving her a small shrug of her shoulders. Shifting her weight slightly, the nurse's eyes flickered back down to Hiro as she offered him a small smile. "Sure," she said, at a loss of what else to do. Hiro grinned, turning back to the balloon as he kept trying to bat it back over, using only his right hand this time. Each effort was wasted— he never came within three inches of the glove. Fred, looking a little awkward, started to the change the subject with the younger one. But Cass wasn't able to keep track of the conversation as she was beckoned over to the side by the nurse.

Getting up from her chair and ignoring the stiffness in her joints, she turned and weaved around the bed in order to reach the other woman. "Yes?" she asked, walking over to stand in the entryway of the ICU room.

The nurse cleared her throat, glancing down at her clipboard. "I was just going to warn you that tomorrow at some point, we _will_ be expecting an answer."

"…An…answer?" Cass repeated oddly.

"Of where you're going to put Hiro when this is all over," she accentuated. When Cass only seemed to grow even more confused, she glanced over at Hiro, observing as Honey Lemon had started to help the younger to hit the balloon properly. "You can't let him just go home after all of this," she said. "The Hospital was willing to trust things to play out the first time, considering that there was such confusion surrounding the situation at hand. But this time we will be looking in to make sure that he is trusted into some kind of after care."

"After…care…" She sounded like some kind of broken record.

"We can't allow him to just go home," she pressed. "So at some point tomorrow we're going to ask you to know where he could go. You don't have to rush into something— research will take some time. But know that if you do not have an answer prepared for us, then we will make the choice for you." At Cass' crestfallen look, she offered her the smallest of smiles. Though the expression did not reach her eyes. "It's for his own good," she reminded her gently. "Letting him go back home…you would just end up back here a third time."

Cass didn't reply, turning and watching with a heavy expression as Hiro finally managed to pop the balloon back over to Fred. Wasabi and Gogo gave out loud cheers over the accomplishment, while Fred bounced it back readily. Honey Lemon was holding gently to Hiro's right wrist, and every time that the balloon made its way to him, she helped the boy to hit it correctly. And pretty soon, together they had created a decent volley. The nurse excused herself as her pager beeped, and she said a small goodbye before turning and walking down the hall out of their room. But Cass was too busy staring sorrowfully over at Hiro to return the farewell— she hardly even noticed the worker's departure in the first place.

Observing her nephew for a few minutes more, Cass felt her throat clog as she looked down at the ground. Reaching back into her pocket, the woman withdrew a small, creased-up post-it-note. It was folded down twice. Into fourths. Crumpled and frayed at the edges, she remembered holding it in a fist for a long while. It was only on the way to the Hospital, riding in the ambulance, had she remembered that she was holding the slip. Only when she had been certain that her nephew was being taken care of, did her mind return to her and she made the connection.

And now, her heart like a stone in her chest, the woman's eyes flickered over the messy handwriting slowly. The words on the slip were sparse. Yet as short as the note was, it was enough, even now, to bring a surge of tears into her eyes quicker than she could even anticipate. She reached up to cover her mouth, trying to stifle her emotions as best she could. She couldn't let Hiro see her crying— the boy was confused enough as it was, and in the moment at hand, her nephew was having fun. He was giggling and, with Honey Lemon's help, he was deep into a game of catch. She couldn't bring herself to cause him grief.

She looked up from the post-it to look at the scene. Honey Lemon was trying to get it so that Hiro could hit the balloon by himself, though the effort was coming up empty so far. Not for lack of joy from Hiro's end, though, as the boy was dissolving further and further into fits of laughs and giggles. Fred was diving every which way to bat the thing back – because in the effort it took to actually hit the glove, Hiro and Honey Lemon's aim was awful – and Wasabi leaned over every so often to try and help. Gogo just watched, her eyebrows raised in an amused manner as she observed. However, the girl straightened as she caught sight of Cass. The girl tilted her head to the side, blinking and tilting her head to the side in a sense of confusion at the teary-eyed look of anguish that had returned to the woman's face.

Raising her index finger to the girl to try and excuse herself, Aunt Cass turned and rushed out of the room. Gogo blinked, worried as she glanced at Hiro to see whether or not he noticed. However, upon first glance, it didn't really look like anybody had been aware of the sudden exit.

Cass hurried away, walking in a random direction down the hall. She didn't have a place to go in mind— she just needed to get away from that room. She just needed to try and forget what the nurse had told her. How was she expected to let Hiro go? To send him away like he was some kind of animal to be shipped off? He was her nephew. He was the one thing on this planet that she loved— she loved him more than life itself. She would do anything at all to help him to smile, or to make sure that the boy could laugh when his sense was returned to him as well. But…send him away? That was like asking her to rip out her heart and watch it traipse down the sidewalk.

She finally came to a stop, turning and leaning against the wall with a deep grimace. The hustle and bustle of the ICU surrounded her in a low drone. She could hear doctors speaking and nurses rushing to and fro. She could hear the beeps of machines and the loud ticking of a clock. She tried to see whether or not she could hear Hiro, but she had gone too far away. Sighing, she hung her head as the realization slammed into her. She was at a loss of what to do from here on out. Nothing she had done so far worked. …Why would this be any different?

Cass blinked, looking down at the paper she still held in her hands.

The last thing that Hiro had left for her when he was under the impression that he was never going to come back.

And, holding the paper with one hand, the woman reached out shakily with the other. And gently, she traced the scrawled letters on the slip with her index finger. She didn't have an answer for anything. She couldn't provide the Hospital with an after care place. And she couldn't will herself to try and come to terms with what was going to happen. The best thing she could do was smile at Hiro and tell him that Tadashi was in the bathroom and that he would be back soon. And, against her better judgement, the woman just read the heartbreaking note over and over again as her eyes gushed with water, as if she was searching for some kind of answer hidden inside of the small message.

'Aunt Cass-

I'm sorry.

I'm so sorry.

For everything.

Last hug?'

But no matter how many times she read the note, she didn't get any kind of answer.

She was only reminded of the problem.


	11. Chapter 11

A/N: I do not own Centre Point or Second Nature or any other organizations I may list.

Just places that I've come into contact with over the course of the last eight months.

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There was a certain degree of peacefulness that settled itself over the hospital as the hours ticked by. As it grew later and later, most of the activity dwindled. Nurses, who were well aware of the fact that most patients would begin to feel drowsy starting now, took better care in being quiet. The lights in the hallway were dimmed and not nearly as harsh, and dinner was being served throughout each of the rooms. Though Hiro was still unable to have food, so such a factor went mostly ignored by the group clustered inside of the room.

They had fallen much quieter than normal. And most activity had come to a stand-still. The only movements came in the form of leaving the room in search of toilet, pacing in order to stretch stiffened legs, or to walk over and peer out the window. The weather was still raging— a fact well-known to the band of friends, since every nurse that filtered through their hospital room commented on it. There was two feet out so far, and surely more to come.

Gogo was currently staring out the window. Fred was turning the corner sink on and off, while Honey Lemon watched judgmentally. Aunt Cass was – of course – sitting neatly at Hiro's bedside, and Wasabi had taken the rolling chair beside her. On the far side of the room, against the wall, there was a small couch; though up until this point nobody had taken a seat there. Cass could only assume that it would probably be where she would sleep, though she knew in the back of her mind that the only way she could possibly rest was if she was right beside her nephew. Maybe she would just end up dragging the piece of furniture over— if she was able to budge it.

"Hey."

Cass straightened at once, looking down at Hiro as soon as his voice met her ears, however softly it had appeared. He looked disgruntled, his forehead creased a little blearily as he suddenly took on the expression of being very confused. The woman sighed, leaning over and running her hand through his hair comfortingly, used to the expression of befuddlement on her nephew by now. After all, his features had been hindered by bemusement more times than there were hours he had been conscious. "What is it, honey?" she cooed softly, hoping that he wouldn't ask for food. He had asked for something to eat or drink every passing hour it seemed, and her heart was growing heavy from rejecting him time and time again.

Hiro turned, looking with a concentrated expression at the people lounging around him. Naturally, as soon as he had spoken, they had perked, similar to the way that Cass had. And attention was fixated fully onto Hiro, though if the teenager noticed the obvious show of concern for his well-being, he didn't show it. He just sighed lightly through his nose, pausing to contemplate for a few moments before asking: "How long have all of you been here?"

Honey Lemon seemed just as confused as Hiro, though her puzzlement was derived from the question at hand. "What do you mean, Hiro?" she asked, tilting her head to the side in a quizzical fashion. Though the question was more open-ended. By now, as well as the confusion on the boy's part, the group was well-acquainted with odd questions and going off on tangents. In the accumulation of hours they had been there, such things were near commonplace.

Hiro coughed softly, reaching up and rubbing his eyes. Yet despite the tired look of the teenager, he still refused to do anything but ramble and talk. Cass had tried to urge him multiple times to fall asleep, but the effort had obviously been wasted. Hiro stirred, looking down at his arm to raise and drop it listlessly a few times. It was a new habit of his, it seemed. And after a few blank-spaced seconds dragged by with the boy raising and dropping his limb, he perked and looked back up again, seeming concerned. "How long have you guys been here?" he repeated, as if he suddenly remembered what he was talking about. "Have you…have you been here all day?" He sounded incredulous, as if he couldn't believe such a thing.

Wasabi grinned. "Don't worry about it, Little Man," he said gently. "We wanted to be here."

Hiro only remained dismayed. "But you've been here…all day?" he pressed.

Fred glanced at the clock. "Pretty much, I guess."

A small chuckle started up in the back of Hiro's throat, and he broke out into a small giggle fit. He smiled that same cutely-awkward, bared-teeth grin. "I feel so special," he bragged, sounding very pleased with himself. The others mimicked his laughter at this. Smiling and laughing had become easier the longer things went on— the longer they were in the hospital room, slowly they were able to overcome the sorrow and shock that these proceedings had forced onto them. Though the idea of what this all meant was still very clear, and though each person knew very well that come tomorrow it would hold a very different story, for the time being they were able to pretend that things were fine. A much easier feat than what came to be at first glance.

Hiro shifted, wriggling down further into his sheets. "I love you guys," he announced suddenly, affectionately. The others stiffened at this, glancing between one another quickly. Though once again Hiro was completely blind— he was only focusing on one thing at a time, and quite frankly, that was all he could do at the moment. Hiro coughed again and turned so that he could offer Aunt Cass the same grimaced-smile. "I love all of you guys. You guys are the best, you know? You're just the best." Looking back front, he gave an assured nod and declared: "We're all the best."

"Oh really?" Fred mused slowly. Hiro blinked, looking over to him expectantly when he spoke. And once the boy turned over to him, the teenager offered him a sly smile. "So out of all of us, Hiro, who's the coolest?" he asked pointedly. Honey Lemon stared reproachfully his way, and Gogo rolled her eyes in exasperation. "I mean— if you had to pick one person to spend the rest of your life with out of us, who would take the cake?"

Wasabi huffed. "Don't do that, man," he sighed.

Fred threw up his arms. "Now might be the only time we'll get a real answer. And I _must_ know."

Honey Lemon put her hands on her hips. "Fred, this is stupid."

"You're just afraid he won't say your name," he quipped.

"Of course not! What I'm _afraid_of is—"

"Miss Hamada?" The interruption was quiet in nature, but it immediately silenced the group. Every face turned towards the sound— even Hiro, though his reaction was slowed in comparison to everyone else's. The night nurse stood in the entryway of the room; Aunt Cass was surprised that she had missed the woman shouldering open the door in the first place. Yet here she stood, waiting anxiously for the woman's attention. And once it was garnered, she clasped her hands dutifully in front of her. "If I could just bring you aside for a few moments…? We have some recommendations we'd like to make to you in response to where Hiro would go after this."

The friends winced immediately. As did Cass. But before they could try and get the nurse to quiet herself, Hiro was roused with the mention of his name. "…'Go?'" he repeated, as if the word was foreign to him, and he'd never heard it before. When nobody replied – when nobody even looked at him, even – he repeated the question, a little bit louder than before. "Go? Where am I…where am I gonna go?" He turned and looked at Aunt Cass, fear slowly piecing itself together in the back of his fuzzy eyes. "I'm not going anywhere, am I?"

Aunt Cass was silent. Biting down hard on her lower lip, the guardian merely held her nephew's startled gaze with a much, much heavier one. It looked like such a stare would weigh more than a hundred pounds if it was shouldered. For a few long, dragging seconds, Honey Lemon was starting to fear that Aunt Cass – whose eyes were quickly growing shinier against the light of the room – wouldn't even reply at all. But after a moment the woman sniffed, shaking her head quickly and reaching over to hold her child's hand lovingly. "Oh honey…" she whispered, her voice trembling like a leaf in the wind. "…don't worry about it. Okay, baby? Don't worry."

Hiro still seemed perplexed, as though he was trapped in some kind of never-ending paradox. "I have to go to school," he explained, as if pointing out what was obvious. "I made those— the things— I have to go to school. I can't just not go after I won everything; how rude would that be? I'm supposed to go to school with Tadashi. He'll be angry if I don't go."

Aunt Cass nodded again. And on her look was an expression wrought with pain and heartbreak. "I know," she said, her voice nearly inaudible. She cleared her throat, squeezing his hand and offering him a watering smile. "I know. It's fine— don't you worry about a thing, okay?" Before he could say anything else – because he had a tendency to ramble like this – she got up to her feet, bending down low and planting a kiss gently on his forehead. "I'll be right back, okay? Have fun with your friends— I'm just gonna go talk to this lady and then I'll be right back."

"M'kay," Hiro mumbled, his attention falling absolutely flat yet again. He fell silent, watching as Aunt Cass turned with one last squeeze to his hand, going over to weave around the bed and walk into the hall. From there the door was closed, and through the glass wall, the entire party could watch clearly as the nurse and the guardian began to talk closely. A few minutes into their talk they were joined by Hiro's doctor. And with a heavy heart, the teenagers who were fully aware of the situation looked on with weighted expressions.

However one of the teens, the one who had caused all of this, was still far too out of it in order to remotely grasp what was happening. "Gogo," he said, after a few minutes of silence. The others turned at this— a reflex they were quickly adopting as their own. Hiro looked proud of himself, and for a while his declaration was only met with confusion. Gogo looked unsure— she pushed herself away from the window and began walking over to his bedside uncertainly, as if she wasn't able to tell whether or not he wanted her closer. But, picking up on the reaction, he clarified quickly. "Gogo's the coolest," he stated.

The reactions were instantaneous. Gogo's eyes widened with surprise as well as, though when confronted about such things later she would deny repeatedly, satisfaction and embarrassment. Fred immediately jerked the handle of the sink to the side, the water bursting out from the tap in a snap as he rocketed to his feet. His left arm flew up, his index finger shooting out accusingly as he let out a loud objection to the answer. Wasabi grimaced away from the shout, and Honey Lemon turned to grin in Gogo's direction, as if congratulating her on winning something of vast importance.

Fred was trying to flood the room, a stream of objections piling out of his mouth like the water was from the tap. Wasabi was eyeing him wearily, and Honey Lemon looked a cross between uncomfortable and amused. Gogo shook her head, leaning over and nudging the little boy gently against his shoulder. "You're pretty cool too, kid," she offered, her expression unusually gentle. Though to be fair, none of them were really like themselves in a situation like this. Fred hadn't said anything stupid nearly all day. Well— _as_stupid.

Hiro seemed wildly pleased with such a compliment as a smile spread largely over his face. Again, he bared his teeth in that awkward but cute way of grinning. Gogo was about to playfully mimic the expression in turn, when they were cut off by the return of Cass and the nurse, accompanied with Hiro's doctor. At first the boy was unaware of the new arrivals, yet once everyone quieted, and once Fred shut off the water, he too roused enough to turn his head to the side in what looked to be an uncomfortable fashion. Cass grinned immediately as they clashed gazes. The expression was fragile and did not touch her eyes. Yet Hiro was once again oblivious.

"Hi, Aunt Cass," he called out sweetly.

She grimaced. "Hi, baby."

The nurse stepped forward, looking slightly uncomfortable as she regarded the kids clustered closely around each other. "I am very sorry to have to tell you all this, but…it's time for you to leave." No sooner had the words left her mouth did the teens react. Honey Lemon wilted, looking torn as she turned towards Hiro. Hiro seemed disappointed, and Gogo's eyes narrowed down into an expression almost akin to anger. Wasabi – ever the one to follow orders – stood up already to leave. He would probably listen to a murderer if they told him to do something. And Fred, growling, shut the water back on in defiance.

The nurse blinked, looking at the boy with a set stare. "…Please don't do that," she requested.

"Why do we have to leave?" Gogo demanded, her voice a little sharper than was needed.

The nurse shifted her weight from foot to foot. "Patients aren't allowed to have many visitors during the night," she explained. "After 8 P.M. the hospital only permits grandparents and guardians to be inside of the ICU halls. And in rooms. And as you all are only friends, then I'm afraid you'll have to leave." Grimacing uncomfortably at the disappointed and, in some cases angry, stares, she tried weakly: "You can stay in the waiting area if you'd like. There's no rule that says you can't stay there past eight."

Gogo scowled. "Yeah— _that'd_be _really_stupid." But by the time the nurse looked over to her, the teenager had turned away.

Aunt Cass seemed uncomfortable. But Hiro's doctor – a man with a name that nobody bothered to remember besides Cass, probably – seemed untouched. Whether it was in his job description or not, he remained steadfastly optimistic. "It really isn't so bad out there," he quipped. "There's some hot chocolate. And if you know where to look, there's some _pretty_decent granola bars."

Nobody was impressed, though Honey Lemon did offer the man a small smile.

Silence filled the room, and it was much more uncomfortable than before. Aunt Cass' arms were crossed over her chest, and her eyes were trained fixedly on her nephew, though he was still out oblivious. He only noticed her stare after a second passed, and once he did, he offered her that bared-teeth smile. Cass returned the gesture wearily. Hiro, pleased with the supposed reply, turned back around, staring blankly and spacing out for a few full seconds before suddenly declaring: "I'm thirsty."

The nurse straightened at this, turning and glancing at the clock. The doctor just nodded. "I bet you are," he replied, not seeming all that sympathetic. "But you can't have anything yet. Just a couple more hours or so, I promise. But until then, I'll need to check out a few more things." The man turned and looked expectantly in Cass' direction. "Perhaps you could take them out while I sort through a few things and then when you come back we could talk more…?" The hint wasn't really all that hidden. And, reluctantly, Cass gave a small, jerking nod.

Clearing her throat, she called softly to her nephew. "Hiro, sweetie…your friends have to leave now, alright? You should say goodbye to them. And thank them for spending the day with you…right?" It was as if she was addressing a small child that was incapable of nearly everything. However, in respect to the way that Hiro was functioning and slugging around at the moment, it wasn't really too far off from what the real situation was.

Hiro seemed saddened, but he followed Cass' orders. "Goodbye," he said softly, the word coming out in a small sigh. "…Are you going to come back tomorrow?"

Wasabi was the one to answer this time. "'Course we are, Little Man. We'll be right back here first thing tomorrow morning."

He seemed thrilled by the idea. As the teenagers all said their farewells and slunk out of the room, Hiro watched them go with a smile— an expression they hadn't seen on the boy's face since the Showcase. Hiro said farewell a few more times, probably because he forgot that he already had said it once, and after the kids lingered for as long as they could, Aunt Cass began to walk them back. And as they headed towards the waiting room, nobody spoke for a long time— the only sound was the group's footsteps bouncing back and forth against the walls.

Emerging into the waiting room, Cass lingered in the doorway so that she didn't have to call the ICU desk to let her back in again. And the group became separated, the threshold of the door now becoming a barrier between them. Cass offered them a wry grin. "I'd say that you could stay here a little bit longer," she said in a mumble. "But I'm sure that you all would much rather go home. Nothing here is really going to change much until tomorrow…and I'd just feel even worse if I knew you guys were just sitting out here doing nothing."

"We'll be back tomorrow," Wasabi pledged, Honey Lemon giving a vigorous nod.

Cass' smile became more genuine now. "Thank you. Very much," she murmured, looking down at the floor of the hospital with a blink. "I don't know what I would have done without you guys. And…I know that it might not seem like it taking in these…these recent events…but…I'm sure that Hiro will appreciate it. …In time." These two words crumbled slightly on her tongue. With the way her tone seemed to droop, it was clear that despite the woman's words, she was a little less than confident over whether or not there could be actual truth to them.

A small bout of silence was drawn up in between them, and, as if trying to fill in the awkward space, Aunt Cass cleared her throat with a small wince. "But…if you could…I was going to ask whether or not there was any way you all could do me one last favor. Before you come back tomorrow, that is."

"Totally!" Honey Lemon said quickly.

"Of course— anything," Wasabi coined.

Though the responses came quick, she was more than hesitant to request yet another favor of the group. And it showed in her eyes as she looked from one person to the other with the smallest hint of a wince. "I was hoping that you could stop by the house and pick up a few things…? I don't want to leave long enough to go back myself— I would much rather stay with Hiro. But…he does need a bag packed with clothes and things like that. At some point, once Hiro is moved down to the lower level of the hospital he'll be allowed to change into regular clothes rather than just stay in those scrubs…"

"We can stop by in the morning," Fred offered. "We'll all stop on the way over, it's no trouble."

"Anything specific you want?" Gogo asked.

"Oh— no, nothing…_super_specific." She paused for a moment, a trace of a grimace flickering over her features. "If you could find it…maybe…oh…I don't know…" The others exchanged cautious glances, and Cass' face peppered itself over in red. "Recently, Hiro's gotten into the habit of keeping…keeping Tadashi's hat close to him." The kids grew saddened at the mental image. "If you could find it, maybe you could pack that. But…it might just make him more upset…or angry." Her face folded down into creases of concern and worry. A pause came along as none of the kids dared to speak, and Cass stared off to the side, seeming special in her awareness.

However, after ten seconds or so, Cass jerked herself out of it. "But no," she said quickly, shaking her head. "No— just…it doesn't really have to be specific. Just things like jeans…a coat…some jackets and shirts…" She paused. Took in a large, slightly shivering breath, and then added softly: "Pack some shorts too. Some short-sleeved shirts."

Gogo seemed puzzled by the added request. "Shorts? Shirts?" She turned to look over her shoulder, though she came up empty-handed as she realized that there weren't any windows in the waiting room of the ICU. Nevertheless, she did turn back to look at Cass, her eyebrows knitted together in bemusement. "It's snowing buckets— he won't really need any shorts…right?"

"Gogo," Honey Lemon murmured, her words coming across as a small, gentle warning.

Cass looked miserable, and she looked down with a grimace, merely shaking her head.

Wasabi looked disheartened. "So…that's…that's how long he'll be gone, then?"

Cass repeated her shake of the head. "I don't know," she confessed sorrowfully. She reached up to tuck a lock of hair behind her ear. "I just…need to prepare for things as much as I can. And I just need to…put him where he needs to be...somewhere that will help him the most. And…get him back to the way he was. If that means he'll be gone that long…then…I guess that's what needs to happen." She wrapped her arms around herself as if she was cold and attempting to warm herself up. Though her words were assured, they were picked slowly and with care— and if her sorrow was water, it was certainly deep enough to wade through.

Honey Lemon grimaced. Gogo shifted her weight back and forth.

Fred blinked, tilting his head to the side. "You don't know where he's going yet?"

"No," she sighed. "I've no idea. I've been trying to sort something out…but…it's just hard. And…final. You know? I can't…I can't know what to go with. I don't know what he'll be happy with— what he wants or what he'll be able to…to conform to." She reached up to rub her temples, looking fatigued beyond belief. She looked as though she could keel over at that very moment, yet the kids were well aware of the fact that she probably wouldn't get much sleep tonight. Not with everything going on. "Hopefully I'll have an answer by tomorrow afternoon…that's when they'll be asking for one."

Fred glanced at the people around him— at his friends, but more importantly at the woman standing in the threshold of the ICU entrance. "Uhm…I could probably work something out," he said.

The reactions were mixed to his sudden burst. Honey Lemon straightened, seeming confused. Wasabi turned and eyed his friend with a warning stare— as if trying to tell him that now really wasn't the time to joke around. And Gogo scoffed, rolling her eyes in a furious fashion; truthfully, Fred was rather surprised that she hadn't turned around and smacked him. But their reactions weren't really what Fred was paying attention to.

Cass straightened, looking perplexed and confused as she took to merely staring his way. But, undeterred, Fred just calmly repeated his words a second time. "I could probably work something out."

"Y-You…what?" Cass asked, seeming a little bit more than bemused.

"My dad makes a lot of money," Fred explained a tad vaguely, his voice retaining the same degree of something akin to nonchalance. "He knows like…a whole bunch of people— you know? I'm sure that if I call him or something and explain what's going on, he could take care of everything. You wouldn't have to worry about making arrangements or dealing with codes or even paying if I get him to listen and see what he could do. And knowing him he wouldn't even like…hesitate before he offered you guys some help. You know?" By now he had brightened considerably. And his voice was much more certain as he added: "You can let me handle everything. You've already been handling a lot so far."

"Oh, no…no, that's probably not…such a good idea," Cass murmured, looking shocked, torn, and grateful over the offer that had been extended to her. "I couldn't possibly ask you to do something like that for me. And— and I'd have to sign off everything and tell the hospital…"

"You could still sign off," Fred pressed. "I mean— the hospital just wants to know that you're sending him someplace for him to get better…right? They just want to know that he's not just going back to your guys' house. And my dad and I could make sure that all the other paperwork is sorted out. It's not like it's rocket science or anything— and even if it was, I'd have them all helping." He gestured back to the others with this, who now all shared mirrored looks of confusion and puzzlement.

"I mean— I'd still tell you all about it, you know? Like…duh, of course that'll be a thing," the teenager scoffed dismissively. "But my dad could handle like…the costs and stuff."

"I couldn't possibly ask you to do any of that," Cass objected firmly, shaking her head in a similar fashion. Her features were drawn and resolute, yet Honey Lemon shifted back and forth. Aunt Cass was a very successful baker— that much was certain and unquestionable. Lots of people knew the bakery on the corner, and it had many Regulars that filtered in and out daily. But that didn't make her made of money. Sending Tadashi through school had taken up a large portion of their profits, and just recently, by Hiro they had all suspected, the cash register had been cleaned dry. And with such an expensive stay at a hospital like this…a night alone just for a room would cost over a thousand dollars. But a night in the Intensive Care Unit, with frequent tests and monitors and medicine dosages?

Did she have the money to actually _send_Hiro someplace? The answer seemed obvious given the newfound strain on her face.

Fred seemed to share the thought as he kept going. "It really isn't a problem. We've got more than enough to spare. And the more you spend, the better those places are…right? Maybe if we do it right, then he won't even be there for very long." Cass looked wilted, staring at the boy across from her with a pinched expression. She didn't speak and kept her lips pressed thinly together. "You could pay me back if you wanted," Fred added, grasping at straws now. "But it really doesn't matter. Dad'll take care of it all. He won't even notice the missing funds."

"I can't…" Cass sighed softly. She shook her head yet again. "I can't, Fred."

"Sure you can," he shot down. "C'mon— Hiro's my buddy. Tadashi was too. And…I just wanna help. And I'm _offering_ it. I can call my dad tonight and by tomorrow morning, he'll talk to the people that he knows. If they're looking for an answer by the afternoon, then the easiest way to get the _best_ answer the _quickest_ is by this. My dad's done harder stuff in half the time— trust me."

"What's harder than this?" Wasabi mumbled under his breath, talking to himself.

However Fred took the question literally as he swung around to face his friend. "Have _you_ ever tracked down a monkey that can make balloon animals while eating fire and riding donkey in less than an hour?" he demanded. Wasabi, subdued, only stared back at him with a startled expression. Fred nodded slowly, straightening in a very self-important manner. "Yeah, that's right," he quipped.

Cass still seemed pained. She did not reply. She just stood and stared at the ground.

Fred's face fell. He shifted back and forth on his feet, stuffing his hands into his pockets with a slightly uncomfortable frown. "I mean— you don't have to," he said eventually with a shake of the head. "I understand, I mean…it's kinda a big thing. It's whatever." The others shifted— apparently torn on whether or not to truly follow his line of thought. Honey Lemon seemed to be the most on board— of course, the most sympathetic of the group would be the first to try and encourage anything that could alleviate some stress off of Cass. Wasabi seemed neutral, just looking back and forth form one person to the other. And lastly Gogo seemed just as miffed, scoffing under her breath every once and a while as she scowled.

Silence congested in between them for a long moment. It seemed to stretch on for forever, and eventually Wasabi gave a small cough. "We should get going," he said quickly, turning and looking over his shoulder. "We've gotta get the snow off from the car and then we can stop by your house. I can call you once we get there and we can get absolutely everything that you need." He waited for a moment to try and see whether or not she would reply. Yet she never did, and, clearing his throat, he tried to catch her attention. "…Aunt Cass?"

She stirred, blinking as she looked up with a slightly startled expression. However, after a moment she recovered. Smiling wearily, she gave a nod. "Oh…yes. Of course. And thank you."

A few more mumbled words of farewell were exchanged. Then the group turned as one and began to head back. The walk down to the parking lot wouldn't be very long, but who was to say what kind of work it would take to get all of the snow out of the car, and how much work it would take to dodge the icy spots on the way back home. Yet after the first three filed out of the room, and once Fred was halfway through to door himself, the boy was stopped short by Cass' soft voice as it drifted over to reach his ears.

"Fred."

He turned, blinking. "What?"

She seemed apprehensive. Her eyes were pained and her hands were wringing in front of her with an air of nervousness. "Uhm…if you could…" The woman trailed off, seeming uncertain. She huffed and shook her head. "I was going to look for someplace where Hiro might be happiest." The others turned as well and all eyes had gone over to train themselves onto her. She bit down on her lower lip, holding back yet another tired huff of air. "But…recently…I don't think I know Hiro as well as I did. Or at least…everything that I've thought was best for him…just got him back to…" She turned and looked around her. At the heartbreakingly-happy waiting room with the play hose and the fire. At the tiled floor and at the pristine walls of the Intensive Care Wing. This time she could not hold back her gesture of exhaustion. And her lips trembled as she said in a very soft voice: "Maybe…maybe I would even…make a mistake here…"

Honey Lemon looked hurt. "I'm sure that it wouldn't…" She trailed off, unable to finish, it seemed. Cass looked far too upset for her to do anything of the sort.

The woman nodded, though it was clear that she was not satisfied with the reply. And she certainly did not agree with such a thing, either. She gave a small cough, struggling to clear her suddenly too-tight throat. It felt as if a white-hot iron was being pressed against her windpipe. "If you could just…maybe calling your father is a better idea. If he's…if he's willing to do such a thing. And I can…considering all that's happened…if it works out I can…I can try to help pay. It's just that…"

"You don't have to," Fred said quickly. "And it's not a problem. I wouldn't offer it if I didn't think that my dad would say yes. He'd totally be down for helping, just like I am. And we can like…get your opinion on it totally. You'd have last say. Just…Dad knows a lot of people. He could help."

Cass was crying again. Silently, though, as tears blipped down her cheeks. She rubbed her nose with a deep wince, and hesitantly she asked: "And you're…you're sure?"

Fred grinned. "Totally. Yeah, of course."

Cass crumbled. She ducked down and pressed her hands tightly to her eyes, her shoulders shaking. The kids jerked, not really sure what to do from this point. After all, a majority of them were already out of the room. But quickly, Cass regained herself, a watery grin stretching over her cheeks. "I can't thank you enough," she murmured, grimacing. "I really can't. Any of you. I appreciate you all so much…I…"

The kids all dashed in to offer her one last hug. They immediately began to reassure her, offering her smiles and promises that things would be okay. Fred was absolute, telling the woman that there was nothing to worry about. That he would make sure that his father could get the answer by tomorrow morning at the very latest, and that it would be the best place humanely possible to send Hiro. It would all be fine. It would work out picture perfect.

And after a while they said goodbye to Cass. They gave a few more hugs and promised that they would call her tomorrow at nine. Not only to check in on Hiro, but also to get a solid list on what they should get for the woman and her nephew. She handed them the keys to the bakery and watched them go from the entryway of the ICU hall. Her eyes were gleaming with water and the light bounced clearly off of them as she watched the kids retreat. They offered a few more smiles and after a few minutes they finally walked out the door.

Together, they walked in silence until they reached the elevator. Nobody spoke. But as soon as the compartment slid open, and as soon as the doors slid shut to close them in, Gogo immediately rounded on Fred. Her eyes were blistering with something close to anger, though upon closer inspection, the expression on her face seemed to resemble fear a little bit more. Yet her voice was dull and hard, and she glared as she jabbed her index finger hard into Fred's chest. Growling, she locked her jaw back. If looks could kill, the teenager would certainly be dead on the spot.

"You'd better know _exactly_what you're doing," she snarled.

(•-•)(•-•)(•-•)(•-•)(•-•)(•-•)(•-•)(•-•)(•-•)(•-•)(•-•)(•-•)(•-•)(•-•)(•-•)(•-•)(•-•)(•-•)(•-•)

It was going on one in the morning. Daylight seemed to take on a different kind of feeling in its first few hours, and though the girl was growing exhausted, she could not sleep. She tossed and turned and winced and fretted. She thought of every bad thing that could happen, and from that list she added on. Heck, she even went down to make herself warm milk, and all she got from that encounter was the realization that she didn't like warm milk. It was gross.

Honey Lemon was growing more and more tired. Every other second it felt like she turned and look over at the clock. The hours dragged by, and eventually she just couldn't take it anymore. The blonde sat up in bed, turning over and fumbling for the phone that was on her bedside table. Her hair was going every which way, and she could feel how puffy and worn her eyes were getting. Clearing her throat, she leaned over scooped up her cellphone, pressing out the needed series of numbers as quickly as she could through her fuzzy eyesight.

Falling back down onto her bed, Honey Lemon turned to curl up on her side, pressing the phone against her ear as she snuggled back down into her pillow. The girl waited tensely as the phone rang and rang, tucking the blanket up nervously to her chin as the time stretched on. At first she thought he wouldn't answer, but a wave of relief rushed over her as it was eventually picked up.

"Yeah, what's up, Honey Lemon?" The answer came out in a yawn; her friend sounded just as tired as she was.

Honey Lemon glanced at the clock again, watching the neon numbers change with a small flicker. "I can't sleep," she murmured softly, her voice a mere whisper against her throat. She hesitated, because she most certainly was wary on whether or not she really wanted the answer. But after a second she took in a quick breath, coughing before murmuring: "So…how's it going…?"

There was a pause. Then: "Wait….what?"

Honey Lemon propped herself up on her elbow. Her tiredness was forgotten as a sense of slow panic began to settle itself over her. "Fred, please don't do that," she scolded, immediately flaring. Again, her eyes flashed over to the clock. "You told Cass that you would get your dad to handle everything, _remember_?" She waited for Fred's response, but when the wait grew to be too long she huffed and pressed forward again. "How could you have forgotten something so important!? You _do_realize that she's _counting_on you!? The hospital expects an answer by tomorrow, Fred, what are you going to—"

"Whoa, whoa, whoa!" Fred exclaimed, cutting through her fretting abruptly. "Sorry— that wasn't meant for you; I was talking to Heathcliff— he was bugging me. No, no, I didn't forget. Geez, Honey, do you think I'd really be that stupid?" He sighed shortly, and by the tone of voice he was using, Honey Lemon almost felt a little guilty. Her lips were pulled down into a frown, and she kept her mouth shut this time around. Fred, realizing she was taking to being quiet, pressed on. "No, I'm working on it, Honey Lemon, I am."

"…But you don't sound very enthused," the girl pointed out.

There was a groan on the other end. Granted, it was muffled and soft, but it was audible all the same. And when he replied, Fred's voice was very much deflated. "Well…i-it's really complicated…"

She went rigid in horror. "You can't do it?" she rasped.

"It's not that I can't _do_it," Fred denied, sounding frazzled and stressed. He sounded like Honey Lemon did during Midterms and Finals. During which times, the boy would always make a point to tease her about how tense she always seemed to be. But now was not a joking matter— making light of the situation was not even on the radar. Because this was awful. "I can do it, that's not the problem," Fred stressed. "I mean— what I said before was true, my dad could do all of this with a snap of his fingers. It's just that—"

Honey Lemon finished the sentence for him, her words coming out in the smallest of sighs. "You just can't get ahold of him." Though she knew that her assumption was probably correct, the girl found herself waiting tensely for the reply. She squeezed her eyes shut tightly, ducking her head so that her chin was pressed down to touch her chest. Her stomach seized immediately at the mere thought of such a thing occurring. Fred had sworn up and down that his father would take care of everything— it was the last thing that he had promised he would help Cass with. It was a huge vow in the first place, which was why it took so long to get the guardian to partially agree to such a thing. But now to suddenly fall out from underneath her and completely come out to announce that he couldn't do this?

Fred gave a small groan. In the background, Honey Lemon realized that she could hear the clicking of a keyboard and a droning of activity below the pattering. "I'm _trying,_Honey; I really am. I swear. I've called my dad like fifty times so far, and you don't even want to know how many times I've talked to a secretary or a receptionist. But I just can't get _anyone's_attention! It's never been this hard before!"

"Well what are you doing to do, Fred?" Honey demanded, pushing herself up into a sitting position now. Her hair was awry from all of her turning, and quickly, she ran her fingers through the messy strands, the gesture hindered every so often as she encountered thick knots. "You promised Cass that you would organize everything, Fred." Her voice wasn't spiked with anger— it was more of a weary, tired huff. She had felt the exhaustion since Hiro had first gone missing, and it had only grown over time. Now, she felt like keeling over right on the spot. The teenager screwed her eyes shut in a deep grimace. "Fred, what are you going to do?" she repeated, her voice whinier this time.

"Well gee, Honey Lemon, I guess the question never occurred to me. I should probably start trying to figure that out, thanks a lot for reminding me." It was never like Fred to get worked up— the boy was usually the last to get heated over something. But this was a very different conversation than the ones that they usually had, and this was a very different situation they were encountering than the settings that they normally resided in. Honey hadn't ever really heard the boy snap, and as she stared down at her comforter, she realized that she particularly preferred it that way.

Fred seemed to come to a similar conclusion. He sighed wearily on the other end, and there was another pattering of keys before he replied. "I'm sorry Honey Lemon," he mumbled, his voice heavy with guilt. "You're right, this is bad; I know it is. I thought my dad would be easy to reach and apparently he's not. And believe me, I'm just over here calling anyone and everyone over and over again. I don't know what the problem is, but I'm trying to sort it all out as best I can." He gave another loud groan. "…Does Hiro like horses?"

"…What?" Had she heard him right?

"I don't know," he huffed. "I can't reach my dad, everyone I _can_reach isn't helping at all, and I've just been sitting here since I've gotten home from the hospital trying to look up places that Hiro could go. …Apparently in Wisconsin there's something dealing with horses."

"…Horses," Honey Lemon repeated in a small whisper. There was no reply, and after a while, she shifted a little uncomfortably. She reached up and rubbed her hand over her forehead. And against herself, she gave out yet another small whine. "Fred, that's not…you said that you would get her the best there was. And I don't think horses are going to cut it! …You know?" Fred didn't reply, but he didn't really need to. She could almost feel her friend's frustration through the phone. And, glancing at the clock again, she hesitated briefly before speaking. "Here— let me come over."

"You don't have to." Though an objection, it wasn't very firm at all.

So it made her next decision a lot easier. "No, I can be over in a few minutes," Honey assured, already tossing off her sheets and heading for her closet. It wasn't like she could sleep much anyway— sleep would be even harder to come by now that she realized how their situation was starting to collapse in on itself. "I can help you look for a place and try to help get your dad, okay?" Thankfully she knew where his house was already. The group had taken refuge there after a late night out of looking for Hiro when he had gone missing. Oddly enough, in respect to the horrid situation they were in with their friend missing and his aunt falling apart at the seams, the revelation that Fred lived in a mansion was a little less striking than it probably should have been. "Does that sound good?"

Fred was silent for a moment. Honey Lemon, already slipping off her pajama pants to transition into some random article of clothing – she would later realize it was jeans – paused, wondering if he would be stupid enough to decline her help. He certainly had a tendency to be kind of daft at times. But relief washed over her, not for the first time, as his voice came through the receiver eventually.

He sounded more than grateful. "Thank you, Honey Lemon."

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If she thought she was exhausted before, she was severely underprepared for this kind of feeling. Every time she moved, she felt like her joints should have emitted some kind of sharp, squealing noise. Her eyes were burning, and though she could not see herself, she could literally feel the bags that were forming quickly. Her mind was fuzzy, and the frustration – which had been building and building ever since she had gotten to Fred's house – was just making things all the more worse. Groaning, Honey Lemon buried her head into her hands, throwing her phone down with a painful thud onto the table. The crack would have made her wince before – her phone was her most prized possession most of the time – but now she rudely ignored it.

"UGH," she blustered, her voice unnaturally ticked off. Fred perked at this, looking up from his laptop for the briefest of seconds before just turning back to the screen. He looked just as worn-out, if not more so, but he did not reply audibly to her shout. Truthfully, he had probably run out of replies, the yell was becoming so common now. But Honey Lemon was not running out of anger. The petite blonde was now entirely made of the emotion, and she puffed out her cheeks with a deep scowl as she jerked out from the cover of her palms. "It is _eight in the morning_now!" she yelled, her voice drier than it normally was. Fred glanced up, but yet again, he just looked back down wearily at his laptop. "I've been calling him every hour since one in the morning!"

Fred shrugged silently. He looked miserable.

Honey Lemon groaned, running her hands up through her hair as she grumbled a few incoherent things under her breath. But then she gave out a huff, blowing out a long burst of air before moving on as best she could. "…Have you found anything else?" she asked, almost afraid to hear the answer.

"I guess so," Fred mumbled, reaching up and tugging his beanie down a little bit more. "I've got…a place called Centre Point. It's uhm…it's down near the other end of the city. It's really highly-rated, but…"

"But?" she sighed.

"It's super insane. Like…it's got a list here, hang on." He fell silent, fiddling on whatever website he was on. And once he pulled up whatever he needed, he cleared his throat to begin reading. "'Patients are not allowed: music headphones, headphones of any kind, any technological device, shoes, necklaces, earrings, hoodies, jackets, sweatshirts'… and it just goes on and on. 'Patients cannot talk to parents or friends at any point during their stay unless approved by the board'…it looks like they can only talk to doctors and therapist people." Fred frowned, looking up at Honey Lemon to see that she shared his look of slow disappointment. Slowly, he shook his head. "From what Cass told us, that's the last place he should go."

"He would hate it there," Honey Lemon murmured sorrowfully, looking down at her hands. "…But…we have to find somewhere to put him. The hospital staff told us we had until this afternoon. And that's…" She looked at the clock on her phone, whose battery was severely in need of a charge. "…only four hours from now." She wilted visibly at this, holding back yet another huff. Honey Lemon rubbed her temples a moment or two more before coughing, shaking her head and asking expectantly: "Next?" Inwardly, she found herself praying: _Please let there be a next._

Thankfully her prayer was answered. Fred sighed heavily, clearing his throat and clicking over to another tab. "…Second Nature," he reported crisply, scrolling down. "It's this…camping, backpacking thing that people can go to. It says it's a… 'wilderness program.'" He pursed his lips, narrowing his eyes. "People from…eleven to thirty-one go there." Honey Lemon stiffened at this, looking confused. Thirty-one? Seriously? Fred seemed to get past the idea quicker than her, because he was already speaking up again. "It…it looks really cool. They like…camp out and hike and live outdoors." He reached up to rub his chin. "It says they get really in-depth."

"Hiking? Camping?" Honey Lemon hadn't asked Hiro at all whether or not he liked being outdoors. Frankly, from what she had heard from Tadashi, he was a pretty cooped-up kid. She's seen him hunch over a computer and crank out an invention in less than five hours. But hunched over a bunch of wood? Making a fire and climbing…she leaned over to see the screen…mountains? "Is that something he would like?" she asked worriedly, reaching up to clasp at her collar.

Fred shrugged again. "Who knows?" he mumbled, scrolling through the page and clicking every so often. "But so far it looks like it's the best thing that I can find. It's hard to find something that isn't like…strict or something he would totally hate." He paused, biting down on his lower lip. "I guess….maybe it'll be easier to tell what to do if we talk to him today, you know? Like…yesterday he was really chill; but Cass seems to think that it'll change. Like…maybe he isn't as angry. Maybe he'll be ready for a change or something. And then we could probably start looking into the other stuff like Centre Point…right? I mean, he might not like camping, and this looks like…everything is camping."

Honey Lemon winced. "I don't think he'll be very willing to change. Cass said he's been like this for a while. Ever since Tadashi…" She trailed off sorrowfully, not finishing her thought.

Fred turned to look at her, unnaturally wounded. "Then what else can we do?" he asked.

Honey Lemon blinked, holding his gaze. She didn't know. He had promised Aunt Cass. He had told her not to worry about looking into this. And if she started now, at 8:15 in the morning, she would be falling apart by the time they needed an answer. She was already so fragile— as it was, she hadn't been able to bring herself to think of giving Hiro away last night. Now – with there being near a 99% certainty that Hiro was already being difficult on her today – forcing this onto her, after reassuring her repeatedly that things would be okay, would be evil. They couldn't do it. But so far, they couldn't find a good place. And they had been at it for hours. Of course, they had taken napping breaks and that had swallowed up a lot of their time, but seriously…

She couldn't find a reply good enough for him.

He sighed, as if sharing every one of her thoughts. And, looking back at the computer, he sighed. "Try calling him one more time," he offered listlessly. He reached up to rub his eyes. "And then call Gogo. Her and Wasabi are already waiting for us to go to their house probably."

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Gogo sighed, pacing back and forth across the floor of the bakery. Wasabi was upstairs, starting to gather together the few things that had been requested by Aunt Cass. Gogo had started helping at first, but had gone down instead to wait for Honey Lemon and Fred near the door. They were late— nearly half an hour late, she thought bitterly. What on Earth were they doing? And why were they even together in the first place? You'd think if they were anxious to go out and see Hiro today, they would be here as soon as they could, not hanging out together.

Yet no sooner had the thought crossed her mind did a bell suddenly ring, signaling that the door had swung open. Gogo whirled around, her hands already on her hips as she watched Honey Lemon and Fred stumble over the threshold. Her face was already pulled down into a scowl, through it wavered slightly as she met the gazes of her two friends. They looked awful— like they hadn't slept a wink. Honey Lemon's hair was pulled back into a really messy ponytail, and her pink glasses were lopsided on her face. And Fred looked drained too, and totally unlike himself. He looked…well, unsilly. For lack of any better term. He looked solemn and serious.

"Where have you two been?" Gogo demanded harshly, her eyes flying wildly over the pair. "And why do you guys look _awful_?"

Honey Lemon shook her head, shrugging off the question and not offering any kind of answer. Instead she just drew herself up, clearing her throat as she glanced up the stairs. "So…uhm, I guess Wasabi is upstairs, then?" Gogo didn't reply, only regarding her friend with a strict kind of concern. Honey shifted, looking slightly uncomfortable. Though thankfully, after a second or two, she heard a slight rustling upstairs, giving away that there was someone walking back and forth. Brightening, she quickly excused herself. "I'll just go and help him, I guess." And before Gogo could reply, she was haring off up the steps.

Gogo turned and watched her go, her lips pulled down into a frown. Blinking, she looked back at Fred with a critical stare, which only grew sharper as Fred seemed to only grow uncomfortable. She started to say something, when all of a sudden she straightened, seeming to remember herself. Her angry stare melted away, but Fred started to wonder whether or not that was a good thing as she grew inquisitive instead. "Oh— hey!" She offered him something that looked like a smile. "How'd it go? Did your dad figure everything out? Where's he going to go?"

Fred blinked rapidly. "Well, actually he's going to…"

Gogo perked, raising her eyebrows. When he blanched, her expression started to cloud once more in anger.

But, thank goodness, Honey Lemon saved his behind. "Fred!" she called, her voice echoing down from the kitchen. "Come help me lift this!"

He didn't need to be asked twice. Offering Gogo a small apology, and offering her the index finger to try and tell her to 'wait a second', he turned and rushed up the steps. Gogo blinked, turning around and watching him go, her eyes still narrowed into suspicious slits. But after a second or two, she shook her head, dropping the inquiry as she turned and made for the steps too. She might as well help before they went to the hospital.

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When they got to the ICU, they were told no visitors at first. And upon question, the nurse had answered presently that: "The patient has requested no other visitors save for his guardian." And that was the kids' first impression that things were going horribly wrong. The second impression came from Aunt Cass when the woman came out after an hour of sitting around waiting. If it was possible for the woman to look more broken than she had last night, this was what it would look like. Honey Lemon was surprised she could even see, her eyes were so puffed up. Her face was bright red and she was entirely ruined. When she spoke, her words were fragile and her voice raw, and every other word, she seemed to stutter and fumble with her words.

"I-I'm sorry," she murmured at once. As soon as she had come out to the waiting room, the kids had gotten up from where they had been sitting on the couches. The area was a bit more crowded today than usual. There were about two or three kids running around playing with toys or initiating games. A few parents were scattered here and there. One was typing furiously on a laptop. Yet even as the conversation started up amongst the standing group, nobody's attention wavered. It was as if everyone was completely isolated in their own little world of whatever was happening. "I didn't mean to…to make you wait…"

"Don't worry about us, Aunt Cass," Gogo assured, noticing how crestfallen Honey Lemon seemed to be as she looked at the woman. But she tried to shrug it off; they were all pretty shaken up about all of this. "How is he doing? Is he okay?" She turned, reaching back to pick up the bag that they had brought along with them, turning and extending it towards the woman. "We packed as much stuff as we could," she reported. "I hope it's enough." The bag certainly seemed to weigh enough for it to suffice.

Cass accepted it with a grateful, hollow laugh. "Thank you," she mumbled, sniffing a little bit as she looped the bag's strap over her shoulder. She was quiet for a long moment, and when she replied, it was with a heavy heart. "He's, uhm…he's…h-he's awake now. Well— I mean— all of the chemicals are starting to get out from his body. So he's not…" _Happy._The word was obvious to the others, yet it seemed as though Cass could not get it out from behind her teeth. Instead, she just shook her head. "He's not very….cooperative," she breathed out.

"What's been happening?" Wasabi asked, a little frightened to hear the answer.

Cass paused for a long moment, staring off into space. Yet after a second, she started to speak, her voice low against her throat. "He's very upset," she said, her words coming out in a faint croak. "He's…uhm…saying a lot of…things that he doesn't mean." She bit down on her lower lip and sighed, a faint tear streaking down her cheek. Hurriedly, she wiped it away. "Or, a-at least I think he doesn't…doesn't mean them. I've tried to talk to him seriously…but it just…doesn't work. He's very upset. He's just so upset…"

Honey Lemon stepped closer, reaching out and rubbing the woman's shoulder comfortingly. Her eyebrows were pulled together in concern, and her own eyes seemed to gleam with tears as well. Cass turned and grinned wateringly in her direction, looking grateful for the mere touch. But soon after, the woman sighed, turning around and regaining herself as quickly as she could. "One of you can come in and see him," she said softly, sniffing again. "One at a time…not all at once. He's very adamant that there are no visitors…so one at a time is pushing it already."

The kids turned, looking from one person to the other with a questioning stare.

Honey Lemon turned and looked purposefully at Fred. "Fred, you go first," she urged, her eyes flashing slightly as they met his.

The boy perked, but got the drift. If he could see Hiro, maybe he could get a clearer idea of what he needed to do.

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Cass entered the hospital Room first. She moved with trepidation, as if she was walking on glass and while taking care not to cut herself in the process. Fred trailed closely behind, his hat pulled low over his ears and his shoulders hunched together as he kept his hands deep inside of his pockets. His expression was grave as he once again entered the ICU room. Last night he had grown to embrace it and relax in it— he had tossed a glove balloon back and forth with Hiro, as drugged up as the little kid was. But now, as soon as he stepped into the room, he could feel that it was different. The atmosphere was much tenser. The shades in the room were drawn so that it was dark and dim inside. And Hiro was curled up and away from the door as far as he could go, it seemed.

"Hiro…" Cass called softly, wringing her hands in front of her nervously. Hiro did not react. She glanced at Fred, seeming almost embarrassed as she walked over to place a hand gently on her nephew's back. Immediately, Hiro jerked forward, shaking her off with in sharp motion. Cass blinked, reluctantly pulling her arm back and clearing her throat. "Hiro, Fred is here, honey," she said. "He wanted to see how you were."

Hiro didn't react. He didn't even look up.

Cass glanced apologetically at Fred, who perked. The teenager turned with a small shuffle, offering a smile that he knew the boy would not see. "Hey, buddy," he greeted, rounding the bed to stand where Hiro could see him. Hiro had drawn the blankets up close to his chin, but his face was still revealed and poking out from the sheets. And Fred was almost caught off-guard from what he saw. Hiro was like an entirely different person from what he was last night. Last night, though fuzzy and uncoordinated, he was sweet and bubbling with laughter every other five seconds. Now he was a polar body. His eyes were dulled over, yet they were also burning with anger and deep resentment. Bags were black underneath his eyes, and he somehow seemed even skinnier than he had been previously if such a thing was possible. He was gaunt and ill-looking and sickly, but mostly it was the stare that caught Fred off-guard. The stare of what looked to be absolute hatred and fury.

It took him a moment to recover, and when he did, he stuttered out something that sounded pretty lame even to him. "Uh…how ya doing?"

Hiro didn't reply. His glare just got sharper.

Cass sighed, drawing herself up a little bit more. When she spoke next, her voice was a little sterner. Though, by looking at her wavering expression, Fred knew that it was a weak façade. "Hiro," she ordered quickly. "You have to realize that people are worried about you. You have to see how concerned they are and how much they want to be with you. Don't you care? I realize that you're angry at me, and you can feel that way if you'd like, but can't you see that you need to perk up with them?"

Hiro was mute.

Cass looked up at Fred sorrowfully. She mouthed a silent: 'I'm sorry.'

Fred offered her a weak smile that did not reach his eyes.

He was about to try something else, starting to open his mouth to get hopefully something a little bit better out, when he was cut off by the arrival of a nurse. Everyone's attention immediately went to the door upon her entrance besides Hiro's, as the boy remained in a reclusive ball. The nurse offered them a smile— a kind of smile that seemed a cross between fake and genuine at the same time. "Miss Hamada," she prompted, looking straight at the guardian and completely disregarding the new visitor. Cass wilted a little bit as the nurse turned her way, and she avoided eye contact with a grimace. Yet the woman pressed forward regardless. "Have you spoken to him about it, yet?"

Cass blinked, looking down at her feet with a small frown. "Uhm…no, no I haven't," she whispered. "I was…just about to though."

Hiro turned just slightly at this. When he spoke, Fred was shocked at how hollow and scratchy his voice came across. "Tell me what." It almost wasn't a question how flat he said the words. Cass grimaced, but the nurse's stare remained just as steady as it had been when she came in. Looking pointedly over to the clock, the worker turned and retreated back into the hall. And, noticing the time, Fred realized what must be going on. It was about the place where Hiro was going to go after this. And as the connection was made, the teenager fought not to just turn tail and run out of the room at that moment.

As the nurse left, Hiro turned just a little bit more so that he could look at Cass from the corner of his eye. Cass was nervous, it was clear to see. And she looked down at her feet with a deep grimace, clearing her throat. "I…I have something I need to tell you, honey," she started out slowly, choosing her words with great care and weight. Hiro didn't speak, only gazing emptily at his aunt with that blank, yet anger-filled stare. How eyes could be so empty but so full of hate at the same time, Fred was baffled over. Cass drew up, forcing herself to raise her eyes to meet her nephew's, however painful it seemed to be for her. "After this…I don't think you can come home, baby…"

There was a long period of silence. It seemed to stretch on for years and years. It was beginning to grow overpowering, enough to get Fred to start feeling suffocated. And finally, Hiro spoke. His voice was quiet— just a mere rasp. Yet despite that fact, the one word was sharp enough to slice through the silence like it was a knife. "What." Again, it was too flat to be a question.

Cass weakened a little at this. But she took in a deep breath and urged herself to go on. She didn't have much of a choice by this point. The doctors had told her she needed to break the news sometime before they were to give the answer on where it was Hiro was going to go. That way her nephew could come to terms with all of this. So he wouldn't be slammed with the idea and then shoved out the door right after. But this…this was impossible to do. She could hardly get a word out clearly. "Honey, I know that it's hard, and I know that you might not want to leave, but by this point I think it's best because—"

"What do you mean I can't go home!?" Hiro demanded hotly, cutting her off mid-sentence. Cass watched in despair as Hiro shot up, the sharp motion seeming to make him grow dizzy as he wavered back and forth. But when Cass leaned over to try and help, Hiro jerked away. The boy's hair was disheveled and it went every which way. The hospital scrubs were hanging off of his bony frame in a pathetic fashion, and his eyes were a little sunken back into his skull. But despite the weakening factors, Hiro was blistering with anger. "Where else do I _go_!?"

Cass sighed through her nose, and her eyes were raw with pain as she tried to pick her way along carefully. "Hiro, please listen to me and calm down," she soothed, her voice shaking and wavering a little despite her words. Hiro's hand fisted tightly in the blankets, and he locked his jaw back with a scowl. She tried to look past the smoldering stare as best she could. "After…after all that's happened…the hospital says that you need to go into some kind of…after care." Hiro went rigid at the words. Hurriedly, Cass rushed: "Honey, you have to realize that after all of this, there's no way that you could—"

"You're not sending me anywhere," Hiro growled through clenched teeth.

Cass sighed and just resorted to shaking her head, glancing over to the hall with a frown. "Look, I didn't want to talk about this now in the first place," she sighed hollowly. "I just wanted to have one last day with you that wasn't awful, okay?" She reached up and pressed her hands to her forehead with a flinch. "…It's just something that has to work, honey, and…and maybe if you put forth all of your effort, then it won't even be a very long stay away from home…you know? When you get to the hospital, I mean, it could be a little hard but—"

"A _hospital_?" Hiro repeated, his voice venomous. "You're putting me in another hospital?"

Cass faltered, looking up at Fred with a questioning stare. He only blinked in reply, looking anxious. Taking the expression as a sign of discomfort in the situation, Cass shot him an apologetic glance before turning back down to her nephew. "Well— it's…it's really up in the air right now…" She paused, swallowing a lump in her throat. "We're figuring something out; by noon there will be a specific place where you're going to go…"

"I don't want to go stay at some hospital," Hiro grumbled, completely disregarding whatever the woman was saying. Though when Cass started to open her mouth and say something in response, he shook his head, his mood doing a 180. His face crumbled, and, rather than growing angrier and angrier, he tried to take another approach into rebellion. "Aunt Cass, please don't do that," he tried, his voice dropping into something of a whine as his brown eyes rounded out in sorrow. Cass stilled, blinking as her shoulders drooped just slightly. Seeing this, Hiro pressed further. "Aunt Cass, I promise that if you let me go home, I won't do anything wrong. I-I'll stop, I promise. Don't send me to a hospital; I won't get better if you just ship me off. I don't want to leave."

Cass ducked down, avoiding eye contact. She looked to the side instead, chewing on her bottom lip. She crossed her arms over her chest and hugged herself with a tight vice. "Hiro, this isn't up for discussion," she said softly. "It's something that's set in stone, and it's not for debate. The hospital won't like it if you just go home without a plan; they've requested that we tell them where you're going by this afternoon." She paused for a moment, clearing her throat and gesturing over to where Fred was standing. "But honey Fred was here and he was hoping that he could talk to you a little bit before—"

"I'm not going to a hospital." Hiro was crying by now.

Cass still refused to look at him. "I'm sorry, Hiro, but you are."

"Let me stay," Hiro implored, his voice a mere mumble. "I wanna stay in the bakery. In my room. It's the last thing I have that's close to Tadashi."

"Hiro, it's not up for discussion," Cass said, absolutely struggling to make her voice firm now. "This is what you need and it's what will make you better; don't you understand?" Fred was standing awkwardly over the side, his eyes wide as he looked from Hiro to Aunt Cass. He was reeling from the conversation, and he was starting to wonder whether or not he was supposed to leave for the moment. But, deciding that it was much more awkward to step out of the room entirely rather than just stand here, he chose to stay put.

"Make me better?" Hiro demanded hotly, growing angry again. "If you wanted to make me better you wouldn't ship me off like I was like trash!" Cass gnashed her teeth, closing one eye in pain. "If you wanted to make me better, you would actually listen to me and let me stay home! You would have been listening to me this _entire_time!"

"It's what's best for you…" Cass tried slowly.

Hiro scowled. "If you wanted what was best for me you would have just given me what I _wanted._You wouldn't have called the ambulance."

Cass was silent at this. She didn't even look at Fred this time— she just ducked her head and reached up to rub slowly at her eyes. The woman didn't even make a single sound in response to what her nephew had said, though the few, sparse words hanging in the air between each person gathered in the space. The Sitter, who had been silent all throughout this ordeal, as was per her job description, shifted a little bit in her chair upon the words. She ducked down lower into her book, and her expression, though awkward in nature, also seemed intensely sorrowful. And, against himself, Fred wondered whether or not this was old news to the girl. How many scenes like this had she sat on the sidelines for? And how many people in these kinds of situations actually pulled through?

Hiro spoke again, his voice spiked in anger. "I don't want a hospital."

Cass just looked away pointedly, to the other side of the room. And after a second, she whispered out softly: "Fred, you can go now."

Fred blinked, looking surprised to be signaled out. He glanced over at Hiro, who was still staring intently over at Cass. The boy's eyes were narrowed in anger, and tears were beginning to slowly mar his face. Yet if he noticed Fred staring at him, he showed no sign of it. He thought of trying to object, but he knew that the effort was pointless. And he wasn't about to add a second person to the barrage against Aunt Cass. Reluctantly, he ducked his head in a nod and turned to hurry out for the hall.

Hiro was repeating his words as Fred left the room. "Aunt Cass, I _don't_want a hospital."

Cass did not speak. She might have made some kind of gesture, but Fred's back was to her.

And as he turned the corner for the waiting room, he could faintly hear the boy's voice, raised again in anger. "Aunt Cass, I don't want a _freaking_hospital!"

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As soon as Fred came out of the ICU, he flew for Honey Lemon. The girl had been sitting in one of the plush armchairs, arranged next to Wasabi and Gogo. They were in the middle of a conversation when Fred suddenly rushed by, grabbing the blonde's elbow and starting to tug her into the hall. Honey Lemon let out a startled noise, stumbling over herself as she was forced to sprint after her friend. Gogo and Wasabi sat erect at the sudden intervention, looking confused as they yelled out questions after the retreating pair. Fred threw something over his shoulder, but it was so rushed that it came out as a jumbled mess like: "Sorryit'salongstoryandIdon'thavetimerightnowberightback!"

They rushed out of the waiting room and down the hall. Honey Lemon only began to ask questions once they stopped near the elevators, a few turns away from the ICU wing of the building. "What's going on?" she asked, her eyes big and round behind her now-off-tilt glasses. Fred turned, not answering her as he started to tug his phone out from his pocket. And, watching him, Honey pressed again with a frown. "Fred, what's going on? Did something happen? Why are you so…?" She didn't really know how to finish the thought, so she moved on rapidly. "Is Hiro okay?"

"He's fine. He's just way upset." Fred grumbled, pulling up his web browser and typing furiously into the search bar. "He's really angry, Honey Lemon. Like— I prepared myself for at least a little bit of anger but he…he's like…he's the Hulk right now; do you understand?"

Honey blinked, staring at him blankly, unsure. "I…I don't…I don't think I do…"

Fred shook his head to clear it. "I'll tell you later," he waved off. "But seriously, Honey Lemon, he's like…I've never even met him before, he's so different. Cass had to tell him that he's not coming home, and he absolutely flipped out. He really doesn't want to go to a hospital, so that eliminates like…the entire list that we created…"

Honey frowned. But after a moment she blinked. "So…then it's that one place. Second-Something?"

"Second Nature," Fred sighed, turning around the phone to display the organization's webpage. Honey Lemon blinked, tilting her head to the side. It was plastered with kids either bundled up in winter coats, buried in snow, or kids wearing shorts and T-shirts surrounded by what looked to be sandstone cliffs. The kids all looked very happy and enthralled— it was like the pictures that you might find when you were looking for what kind of college you might want to go to.

Honey Lemon blinked and looked up, offering him a bright smile. "Then…that's it, then?"

Fred seemed dubious. "I mean, I guess. He might not like camping, but at least this isn't in a hospital per-say. That's just something that he really doesn't want to do I guess. I guess…well, maybe you could see him in this kind of environment, right?" He pursed his lips, trying to see whether or not he could picture Hiro like those other kids, bundled down into a snowdrift and offering a toothy smile up from underneath a thick, red coat. But somehow he couldn't. During the short time he'd hung out with Hiro over those couple of weeks, he never saw Hiro particularly happy in the outdoors. But, when his fingers were flying over a keyboard and as he scooted back and forth to monitor growing inventions, Fred _had_seen the kid grin. He'd seen him excited and energized. Could he _get_that from this place? Could he be_happy_ so far away from everything else?

He didn't let himself think any more of it. Instead, he looked at the down payment price; and as he did, the boy's eyebrows raised. He didn't have that much— not in his bank account. Seeing the change in expression, Honey Lemon leaned over, her eyes trailing over the screen to search for what caught his attention, and the blonde perked as she found the target. "Yikes," she mumbled softly, her eyebrows bunching together. "…Is that a problem?" the girl asked slowly.

He shrugged. "I can charge it to my dad's company, I guess. If that need all that as a down payment, then it's fine. Hang on." He turned and swiped over to his keypad, hammering out a quick number and raising it up to his ear as he waited for it to ring. Honey Lemon stepped back and leaned against the wall, simply waiting to see how it would play out. If this was their answer, then maybe them having to stay up all night was worth it. At least they seemed to have landed on an answer.

Fred straightened, apparently having landed a worker of some kind. Honey Lemon wasn't going to pretend to know what was going on in Fred's dad's business or his contacts or anything like this. She was still a little fuzzy on the whole thing herself, despite the fact that she had spent more than five hours trying to help Fred track his father and other people down. She was just along for the ride, she guessed.

"Hey, uhm…Anne?" Fred paused for a second, then nodded. "Right, no, I totally meant Wayne."

Honey Lemon's forehead creased skeptically.

"So anyway," Fred went on. "I need to charge a cost to this whole…" He gestured with his hand lazily. "…place…"

…

"Well, it's a long story. I just need to send my friend somewhere. It's a camp for…" He had to think for a moment to remember how long it lasted. But he landed on it quickly. It was more than a few months. "…ninety days, I think is the most you can stay there. And I think that's how long he's gotta stay put. And it's like…an everyday cost kind of thing, so it's a little bit more than I can put down at first. If I could just charge it to your guys' company…"

…

"No, they don't want that. It says so on the website thing."

…

"I'm not _supposed_to do it. If I _could_do that, don't you think I totally would?"

Honey Lemon began to wring her hands together tightly in front of her. If this didn't work out they were screwed. Hiro wouldn't listen to a hospital. He would kick and scream— Tadashi had told them horror stories over and over concerning his brother's stubbornness. And apparently Fred was more than sure a hospital wouldn't work. This camping thing was their last hope on such short notice. And that dollar amount was far more than Honey Lemon could help cover, as well. She was pretty sure that even if they all pooled in as much money as possible, they wouldn't be able to pay for ninety days of this program. She found her heart in her throat as she waited for Fred.

Fred seemed to be getting frustrated. "I can't _get_him to sign off on the purpose, I can't get _ahold_of him. I've been trying all night!"

…

"Can you please just make an exception or something? I know it's expensive, but it's really like…" He glanced up at Honey Lemon in a sense of despair. "It's like a matter of life and death, dude. Just cut some slack this time around. I just need to be able to say that you'll pay for it all."

Honey shifted, her worry mounting now.

Fred pinched his nose. "At least get me through to him, if you're going to make me get him to sign off on it all."

…

"Well look, then that's something we have in common then, because _I can't get his attention either_!" No sooner had the yell escaped her friend did Honey Lemon watch Fred deflate slightly. He sighed, shaking his head; and when he spoke again, his voice was much milder again. "Look…if you could just make an exception. Just this once. Could _you_sign off on it or something? I know it's expensive and stuff, and it exceeds your stupid thing but…"

…

"No," Fred sighed.

Honey Lemon stiffened, going rigid. Her eyes rounded out, and she felt her heart sink to her shoes.

…

"Yeah. Whatever," he growled. And abruptly, he hung up.

Silence rested in between them, and Honey Lemon was almost too scared to speak. Yet after what had to be at least two minutes of tense quiet, she whispered: "…What now?"

Fred looked livid. Or at least the most frustrated and angry she had seen him since they had become friends. He shoved his phone into his pants pocket, looking at Honey Lemon with an expression that not only gave off anger, but also sadness as well. "They won't sign off on something that costs more than I already have in the bank unless Dad signs off. And since we can't _reach_him, then we've just gone in a huge circle, haven't we?" He reached up and tugged his beanie back down in a fit of rage. "Oh my _God_I thought this would be super simple and apparently it isn't."

"What does that mean?" Honey demanded. "Does that mean we have to go to one of the other hospitals?"

"Hospitals won't work with him," Fred huffed. "I promised Cass I would put him where he'd be the most happy and stuff. He was freaking out even at the mention of stupid hospital. If we put him there, he'll never come out, because he'll never work on himself, you know? …I mean if that's the only place he could go I'll put him there, but I really don't want to, man. Err, girl," he revised lamely, stuffing his hands sullenly into his pockets. He huffed out a slow gust of air.

Honey winced. "It's not even that," she coined. "We're forcing him to go someplace as it is…I want him to at least not hate it entirely...and plus if he goes in hating it, then he's never going to give it a chance."

"My thoughts exactly," Fred mused, scuffing at the ground with the toe of his shoe. "It's a waste."

Honey stared at the ground for a few more minutes. Neither of them spoke— they couldn't find anything to say. They had a huge problem in their midst at the moment, and with the hours slowly ticking away, they were running out of time. They needed a solution sooner rather than later, but so far it was looking as if the entire universe was against them.

"Fred, what do we do?" Honey Lemon finally asked, her voice the smallest of mumbles.

Fred shrugged, looking over at the clock and its ticking hands. "…I dunno."


	12. Chapter 12

He had been so tiny. He'd been born premature— nearly seven whole weeks earlier than his due date. Cass remembered that as soon as the delivery had been pulled off – the very second that the procedure had ended – the doctors had immediately taken him out of the room. His mother hadn't even been able to hold him, or even catch a glimpse of her new baby. But the doctors had been adamant on the need to whisk him away. He had been barely wavering over four pounds. …He had been so tiny. And they had taken him to the NICU and kept him there for what seemed like months upon months, though surely it couldn't have been that long.

Cass had remained faithful at her sister's bedside— she had had absolutely no other priority back then than to remain by her sibling's side. And, whether or not it was on purpose, the woman had committed nearly every single thing that had occurred to her memory. How her sister had fretted day in and day out, asking the doctors how her son was doing and what was happening to him when he was so far away from her. How Cass had routinely admonished her sister's husband for his constant worrying. She remembered very clearly pulling him aside and smacking the top of his head a little sternly. "Stop it!" she had snapped. "Can't you see you're the one that needs to be calm right now!?" Playfully of course, though in truth, she had only been half-joking.

And Tadashi. Oh, man, did the toddler turn into such a monster. She remembered that she could hardly even recognize the dutiful little boy when they were clustered inside of that room together. He was absolutely impatient in every sense of the word. He was so impatient, that Cass often had to take him back home when he was proving himself too intrusive to his poor mother. Routinely demanding things like: "Where's my little brother?" and grumbling out: "You told me I'd have a baby brother by now." He was very insistent.

She remembered clearly one specific night. Tadashi had been getting tired, having come to the hospital directly after school. It was going on eleven at night, and the young boy was drifting off to sleep in the armchair at his mother's bedside. By that night, Cass' sister was up and walking again. And thank goodness, because you know what they had needed back then? A worrying, fretful mother that could _pace _now. So, knowing that more people inside of the room was probably just making her get even more worked up, Cass had decided that she could take Tadashi home. Get him in the bath, maybe whip him up a snack, and then tuck him into bed.

The parents were grateful for her help. And, assuring them that she would be back tomorrow, Cass had scooped Tadashi up and carried him to the car. But she remembered her sullen disappointment that the little boy hadn't remained asleep— as soon as she had pulled out of the parking lot, he was up and talking. His face had been pulled down into a frown, and when he spoke, Cass remembered how his voice seemed so deflated. "Mom said that I would be able to hold him," he had whined, kicking and swinging his legs. "I wanna hold him."

Cass had grinned. She'd turned and offered him a small smile. She remembered thinking how cute his frustration was. "You'll be able to hold him soon," she had assured him sweetly. "I think your little brother was just as excited to see you! He's here much earlier than he's supposed to. He's very teeny, so the doctors have to keep him inside of the hospital to keep tabs on him."

"Can't he just come out already?" he'd complained. "It's been forever."

"It's only been about a week," she'd pointed out, trying to be as gentle as she could. But she had known it was hard. It was hard on everyone, and although Tadashi could sometimes be very mature for his age, Cass had realized that he would be the last person to deal well with such a thing as this. So, naturally, she had tried to make light of it all. "Think of it this way: while you wait for your little brother, you can think up all of the fun things you could do with him, you know? You could have a mile-long list by the time you get to hold him. You could…well, you could color together. Or nap together. You could play tag when he's big enough to walk. You could eat cookies together and watch TV together and you could even worry your mother together— I know how much you love to do that." The last one had been meant as a joke, but Tadashi either didn't find it funny, or he just wasn't listening.

He had drooped down in the seat, hanging off of it as he was nearly laying down. And his puckered expression had remained as he'd mumbled: "But it's no fun _now_. How long is he supposed to stay inside of there? It's no fun."

Cass had offered him yet another smile. "I know, champ. But your little brother's just very little right now. The doctors don't want him to get sick or anything, so he's gotta stay put, you know? Don't worry…I'm sure that he'll get out soon."

Tadashi had sighed. And two full minutes had passed before he spoke again. "…Yeah, but _when_?"

He had always been such a worrier around that time. Tadashi had been almost as upset about the situation as his mother had been. Of course, at the time, it was silly. Hiro was just a premature baby; hundreds of babies were born like that a year, and all it meant was that they had to spend a few weeks inside of a NICU being taken care of. There wasn't much to worry about. You just had to wonder when they decided he would be fine enough to be brought back and held. And when he did eventually be brought back, he was already perfect; there wasn't a single flaw.

Hiro looked like his mother. And already, he'd had a mop of dark hair on his head. Tadashi had been enthralled, and, with the help of his father, he had finally gotten to hold his new baby sibling. And, grinning a mile a minute, the little kid had routinely called out in a series of joyful shouts: "He looks like me! He looks like me!" Cass hadn't been able to see the resemblance— she just saw her sister in the curves of the new baby's face. But she had reveled in the happiness that the family had at last. After what seemed like forever, things had finally settled down. And, after holding and cooing over the new addition to the family, she had eventually taken her leave back to the restaurant, promising to visit soon after she collected herself back at home.

She had been thinking about that a lot recently. The night in the car, the situation in general. When you spent all your time sitting at the bedside of someone who refused to talk to you, you were left to wallow in your own mind; and there was only certain things she could think of without it becoming too painful to bear. But even this was a little disheartening, she realized sadly. She bit down on her lower lip and sighed, turning over and looking at Hiro with a small wince. His back was still to her. After she had told him repeatedly that there was no way that he wasn't going to another hospital, her nephew was even more uninclined to look at her. He wasn't even making a sound— the only noise at all was the steady beat of his heart monitor.

Somehow she couldn't get Tadashi's voice out of her mind. It had come out of sheer frustration and impatience back then, considering that he was so on-edge. But suddenly, it seemed much more heart-wrenching. She longed to reach over and stroke down the mess that Hiro's hair had turned into, but she knew that if she even tried such a thing, Hiro could start spitting all over again. So, biting down on her lower lip, she curbed herself enough to keep still. She only looked on with a small frown, eventually unable to do even that as instead she looked down at her hands, which were clasped together in her lap.

_Yeah…but_ when?

When, indeed…

She didn't look up, subdued as she twiddled her thumbs in silence for a while. After a moment, she spoke up, her voice the smallest of whispers, as if she was almost too afraid to speak at all in the first place. "…I just want you to be happy…" she murmured, her voice crumbling on her. She didn't look up at Hiro to see whether or not he was listening— he probably wasn't. She just shook her head and closed her eyes. "And maybe one day…when you _are_happy again…you can look back and…maybe realize that this was what was needed the most." Silence met her words, and, more out of desperation than anything, she added: "I know you miss Tadashi very much, Hiro," she could see her nephew curl up at her words, "but…I just don't want to lose you too." She had to stop and take a few breaths to make sure that she could actually speak correctly. "Because I love you, honey. And despite everything, I know you love me."

Hiro didn't reply.

Cass looked up, her heart aching as she could feel her lower lip begin to tremble. "…Hiro?" she asked, her hands clenching together so tightly that her knuckles were bleached white. Still nothing. And, taking in a deep breath, she found herself scooting forward a little bit in her chair. "Hiro?" She reached up and tucked a lock of hair behind her ear with a sense of apprehension. "…You love me right?" Hiro turned and shrugged the blanket up so that it passed over his head. Cass sighed shakily, hunching down and pressing her hands up to her forehead.

When was the last time that Hiro had said that he loved her? Why hadn't she paid more attention then? Savored the phrase? Why had she thought that it was so trivial before? She had taken advantage of it, and now she was left absolutely _aching_to hear it again. She shut her eyes, flinching. "Please tell me you love me," she all but pleaded. How long would Hiro be gone? Days a time? Months? How long would she be forced to go to without seeing her beloved nephew? She wouldn't hear his voice…she wouldn't be able to wrap her arms around him and hold him close? Couldn't she hear him say it once? Just one last time before he was ripped from her?

The answer was obvious, it seemed.

As obvious as the silence that greeted her.

Until: "Aunt Cass…"

At first, she was hopeful enough to believe the best. She sat up at once, her eyes lighting up for the briefest of moments as she looked up. But she didn't see Hiro looking over at her— she saw Gogo. The slightly shorter girl seemed a little awkward over what she had walked in on, and, self-consciously, Cass wondered how much she had heard. Trying to dismiss the idea by telling herself that it didn't really matter very much by this point, Cass straightened, sniffing and forcing herself to become collected once more. "Gogo," she said, offering the girl a worn smile. "I'm sorry— I should have come to get you." Fred had left the room just about fifteen or twenty minutes ago. After the fight with Hiro, going to get the others one by one as well had sipped her mind. "I'm very sorry, I wasn't…uhm…I wasn't thinking."

Gogo shook her head. "No, it's fine. I got it." She looked over to where Hiro was laying, but the blanket was still pulled up over his head. He could have fallen back asleep by now for all she knew. So she took in a deep breath, figuring that there wasn't much point in keeping many things back anymore. "Uh…we just realized that we left Tadashi's hat back at your house. We were in such a rush this morning I guess we forgot to remember to grab it on the way out." Cass was confused for a heartbeat before she remembered, stiffening with a small jolt. That was right— she hadn't even looked inside of the bag that had been given to her yet.

"Oh…" She glanced over at Hiro, a frown crossing over her face a little uncertainly.

"We just decided to go back and get it really quick," Gogo said quickly, glancing over her shoulder. "The others wanted to go too…I was just going to come in and tell you where we were going in case you came back out and got confused…" The girl turned and glanced over at Hiro, her eyes seeming a little shadowed whenever they settled back down onto the boy. She tried to tear her gaze away, but she found averting her eyes more difficult than it normally was. Awkwardly, she looked down at the ground and cleared her throat. "So uh…is that okay?"

"Sure, of course." She answered this quickly, but after a moment she paused, blinking. Gogo started to leave and she reached out to try and stop her. "Gogo, wait!" The girl reacted quickly, immediately whirling back with a slightly alarmed expression. "Is Fred going with you?" Gogo nodded. _Darn_. The guardian felt bad, yet she couldn't hold back a twinge of frustration, turning and looking over towards the clock. It was getting close to time. She started to say something, but paused, grimacing and taking what she was going to say back. She couldn't complain— not when Fred was doing something as amazing as this. He was planning everything, and on top of that, he was _paying_for it all at the same time. She couldn't throw a fit now; that would be selfish.

So she sighed instead and plastered yet another smile on her face. "When you come back, could you ask him to come in here, then? He still has to get back to me about the whole…thing with where Hiro is going to go. They're going to want the answer by the time you all get back probably."

Gogo seemed surprised by this. She blinked and tilted her head to the side. "You mean he hasn't talked to you about it yet? At all?" she demanded.

Cass shook her head.

Gogo was still for a few moments more. She seemed lost in thought. But then she recovered, grinning and offering a small, suddenly-cheery nod to the woman. "Right then!" she assured. "We'll be quick! And I'll make sure that he comes _right back here_when we get back!"

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It was a peaceful car ride. Wasabi was driving, so the car 'wasn't allowed' to be _too_noisy, but they were entertained regardless. Honey Lemon mumbled softly along to a few songs that came on the radio. Fred played the alphabet game with himself in the short drive it took to get back to the café. Gogo was quiet, but Gogo was usually quiet. There wasn't much thought about it at all— during the drive, at least.

Wasabi knew where the key was— they had locked the building on the way out this morning so they were forced to unlock it this time around in turn. And they all filed into the bakery for the second time that day; though now that the sun was up more, the place seemed a little more homely. Less depressing, to be frank. But the eatery was still empty— the sight of all the abandoned chairs and the lack of activity inside of the once-bustling place was a little bit of a downer. It was a reminder of what had happened and what was still happening.

Walking inside, the others immediately turned to go upstairs. They didn't know exactly where Tadashi's hat would be, but they had agreed on the way out of the hospital that it probably had to be somewhere upstairs. Probably more in Hiro's room to be exact. But Fred hung back for a few minutes, staying down on the first floor as he hesitated. He stared around him— at the empty place and all it entailed. His expression was sober, and, looking deeper, it was also very, very guilty. He looked down, studying his feet as he tucked his hands into his pockets.

What was he supposed to do now? His only option was to shove Hiro into some kind of mental ward and hope for the best. Hope that what he knew for _certain_wouldn't come around to be. He knew that the boy would kick and scream, and that he wouldn't try to get better at all. So what was the _point_? But at the same time, he had nothing else he could possibly do. Go and tell Aunt Cass that he was sorry? That he couldn't do what he had promised to and that she was on her own? He reached up with a small sigh, rubbing his forehead with a deep grimace. This whole thing was so _impossible_…

"Fred." The boy jolted at the sound of his name, turning around with a jerk of surprise. Honey Lemon had doubled back after noticing the boy's absence. The girl's expression seemed heavy and sorrowful, and when Fred turned around and she saw the strain in her friend's face, she tilted her head to the side, trying to offer him a smile. But it didn't come out as reassuring at all; it was a sadder sort of look than anything else. "C'mon," she invited, gesturing him forward with her hand. When Fred didn't move, only staring at her blankly, her eyes softened. "It's okay," she said, her voice dropping into a small whisper now as she glanced up the stairs. "…Fred, it'll be okay. You know? It'll all work out somehow."

For a second, Fred was debating just ignoring her. How could things just sort themselves out in the end? So far, things weren't really _falling into place_ around here. They'd stopped doing that ever since the night of the Showcase. But before he could land a sharp retort her way, he was able to cut himself off. He shouldn't lash out at her— she was just trying to make him feel better, like Honey Lemon always did with everyone. Throwing it back into her face would just be mean or cruel. He had to keep his head on his shoulders; otherwise he had no idea where he would be.

So he recovered and returned her smile. He turned and walked towards her, following her up the steps as she went back up to join the others. Gogo eyed them as the pair scaled their way up to the second floor, but she didn't say anything outright. Instead she just cleared her throat, looking around her at the kitchen and the living room. "We didn't find it up here," she said, Wasabi coming out of Cass' room empty-handed. "It must be up in Hiro's room like we thought."

There was something odd about her voice— it was clipped and a little shorter than it usually was. Uncomfortable, Honey Lemon started to wring her hands together in front of her. True that Gogo was never really a ray of sunshine, but something seemed wrong. So she took the initiative first. "Alright then!" she said cheerily, wearing a slightly nervous grin. "We can go and check it out." Gogo turned and started to say something, but Honey Lemon was already turning, grabbing Fred's wrist and dragging him up the steps. The teenager yelped at the tug, but he went along regardless.

The two stumbled upstairs, and once they reached the landing, Honey Lemon took her hands back, crossing her arms over her chest and hugging herself with a small sigh. Fred eyed her, raising his eyebrows in a stunned expression. "What was that all about?" he asked.

Honey Lemon started to answer, but Gogo cut her off. Her and Wasabi had fled up the steps closely after her and Fred, and the blonde felt a stroke of frustration. Gogo turned and looked at her friend skeptically, and the girl responded by holding back a sigh. Something about the black-haired girl was off-putting. And her uneasy feeling was proven correct as the girl spoke up in a colder voice than normal. "Yeah, Honey," she said, her eyes narrowing somewhat. She stopped in the entrance of the room, and Wasabi did the same after a beat of hesitance. Though he looked a little confused by the way that the two girls were looking at each other. "What was that all about?" Her voice was a little bit angrier than was probably necessary.

Honey Lemon blinked, drawing herself up. "I wasn't— I didn't—"

Fred fluffed up defensively. "Lay off of her Gogo," he said. "Geez. Who peed in your cheerios this morning?"

Wasabi blinked, looking perturbed. But Gogo immediately exploded in anger. "Oh!" she exclaimed, turning over to Fred with a sudden scowl. "Don't even pretend like this is uncalled for!" Fred blinked, but didn't say anything, only staring at her shoving his hands into his pockets again. "You two have been acting weird all day! You come into here this morning looking like you haven't slept _at all_, and you two were _together_let me add! Why? What's making you act weird? And every time I ask you where Hiro's going, either you don't answer or you find a way around things!"

Fred still didn't say anything. Honey Lemon looked dejectedly over to the side. This only seemed to get Gogo to be even angrier, though. She crossed her arms over her chest, her expression becoming completely enraged. "Are you guys serious? You won't even look at me _now_? C'mon!" Wasabi was floored; he hadn't thought much of anything at all. But now he suddenly seemed to side with Gogo, staring over at Honey and Fred with sudden apprehension as well as anger. "You guys are hiding something and you have been since this morning!" Gogo snapped.

"We're not _hiding_anything," Fred tried, though his voice was less than sure of itself.

"Mhm," Gogo hummed. "So _where is Hiro going, Fred_?" Her voice turned scathing with this.

Honey Lemon turned away fully at the question. Fred just stared.

Absolute silence met the girl's words.

She growled, narrowing her eyes into furious slits. "You're kidding me, right?"

Honey Lemon winced. "Gogo…"

"No, don't you 'Gogo' me!" her friend lashed back hotly. "Are you guys _serious_!? Do you have _any idea what time_it is!? They want an answer by noon! And you don't have _anything_?! What have you been doing!? You've had hours to start working!" Growing frantic now and reaching up to dig her fingernails into her skull, she took a few more paces into the room. Wasabi didn't follow, but he did watch with a shell-shocked expression as it all continued to play out. "I can't believe you, Fred! You promised Cass that she didn't have to worry about a single thing! She's counting on you to decide what to do from this point on!"

This caused a similar feeling of anger to stir inside of Fred. He reacted at once, locking his jaw back as he met Gogo's glower with one of his own. "Right, Gogo, because I totally don't know that!" he shouted, Honey Lemon flinching and taking a small step back from the pair. "You think that you know every little thing that's happening? I've been _trying_to sort things out! What, you think I've just been sitting around? Dude, I've been working my butt of trying to reach my dad!"

"But if it hasn't been working, why have you been focusing on that?" Gogo demanded, still refusing to back away from her sharp tone. "Have you been looking for anything else rather than—"

"Gogo, I've been doing everything I can!" Fred objected. "But I don't have a lot of wriggle room here, you know? I found this one place, but I can't get it to work without my dad signing off on it, and I can't get ahold of him to do that. So there's not much else we can do. Hiro's made it super clear that he doesn't want to go to another hospital, so I don't want to—"

"I don't think Hiro is really in charge of where he wants to go," Gogo growled. "If it was up to him he'd probably disappear off the face of the planet, which is what he was trying to do as of yesterday morning. And you're hesitating on what to do because he might not _like it_? Newsflash, genius: I don't think that part should really _matter_."

Honey Lemon flared up with this. "Now hang on a second, Gogo! We realize that Hiro is in a bad place right now, but we care about him and what he thinks at the same time, you know? I know that_I_ don't want to stick him someplace he would hate! And Fred thinks the same, which is why we're in this situation." Realizing that Wasabi was staring over to her at this point, the blonde turned, looking desperate. "You get what we mean, don't you, Wasabi?" she asked. "We're Hiro's friends! Have you guys forgotten that? We know we have to send him somewhere, but that doesn't mean we have to toss everything else out the window. I couldn't live with myself if we just shipped him off…"

Wasabi seemed torn. "But…Honey Lemon…Fred…there's really no other option…"

Honey Lemon only seemed saddened. "And that makes it right?" she asked softly.

But Gogo didn't seem swayed. "It makes it impossible to avoid."

"But—"

"Look," Wasabi said, cutting through Fred's objection quickly. "I get where you guys are coming from, I really do. And I agree; the thought of forcing Hiro to go anywhere he doesn't want to isn't what I want to do at all. But when it gets as late as this and you don't have any other thing to fall back on, it kind of is the only thing you can do." Honey and Fred turned, exchanging sorrowful looks at the fact. But Wasabi just shook his head. "Gogo's right— Hiro's not in his right mind anyway. The only thing that's certain right now is that he needs help. The help of a doctor or something; it's been shown that nothing else short of that can make a difference. Cass tried to fix Hiro without medical help and look are where we are now."

Honey Lemon reached up and rubbed her forehead with a grimace. She was adopting a splitting headache the longer this went on. And her chest felt like it was weighing a million pounds. She could hardly put up a fight with any of the arguments that her friends were pulling, and yet she couldn't help but struggle to maintain her footing. Fred seemed to think the same, shaking his head. "I don't want to send him where he won't try to get better."

Gogo twitched. "And I don't want to look at how upset Aunt Cass is after all of this! I don't want to walk up and down the hallways of a hospital! I don't want to sit around an intensive care waiting room for hours on end just waiting for news that will never come! I don't want to look at Hiro the way he is now! And I don't want Tadashi to be at a cemetery rather than two doors down from me at the lab!" The other three were shocked, their eyes wide and hollow at her shout. Gogo sighed slowly through her mouth, closing her eyes and ducking down to draw a hand through her hair. She seemed too wrapped up for a moment to speak, but eventually she managed to clear her throat. And when she recovered, the girl shook her head listlessly. She took in a slow breath, and then looked back up at Fred with a hard stare. "…We don't always get what we want, Fred."

"We haven't in the past so we should just keep the streak going?" he asked scathingly.

Wasabi grimaced. "Fred, really…we get it. It's just…there aren't any other things we can do."

Honey Lemon was at her wit's end. She sighed deeply, looking pained. But she fell silent.

Fred was still resisting though. "If we could just get a couple more hours, we could maybe find a place that doesn't suck— one that he could—"

"Fred! You don't _have_time!" Wasabi snapped. "The doctors need to know by—"

"I _know_what the doctors need!" Fred interrupted, his voice suddenly raising into a frustrated snap. His face was slightly pinched in anger, and he was now fully glaring at the two that were standing across from him. It was never like Fred to even get irritated— it was even more unlike him to raise to such levels of anger as to scream. And the fact registered for Wasabi as he straightened, looking shocked. "I _know_what the doctors need and I am _very_well aware of when they need it! So if you could just stop reminding me of it, since I've been thinking about it ever since eight last night!"

Gogo's hands balled into fists. Unlike the others, she was not subdued by the idea of Fred yelling. In fact; it only escalated her. The girl took a few steps forward, her eyes narrowed into burning slits as she got closer. "If you would just do what's best for Hiro—"

Fred snapped at this point. "_I am_trying _to do what's best for Hiro_!" he screamed.

And then Gogo snapped.

The teenager's arm cocked back, and before Fred could even realize what was happening or even try to get out of the way, she was reacting on an impulse. She threw her fist forward, hitting Fred directly in the face over his right eye. It was a deadly punch— one that felt painful even to those who weren't even touched. Honey Lemon yelped, jumping backwards as she clapped a hand over her mouth, her eyes flying wide. Even Wasabi jerked backwards in a wince. Gogo dropped her arm once she made the blow. Her face fell somewhat, but as she watched Fred stumble backwards, her eyes still retained their degree of fury.

Fred came close to keeling over. He was forced to stagger backwards, the back of his knees ramming into Hiro's bed with a small thud. He hunched forward, pressing his hands immediately to his eye, which was already watering over and throbbing in pain. Honey Lemon dashed over, reaching out to try and help prop him up. Seeing the girl's concern, Gogo's face fell even more. She drooped, deflating and taking a small step backwards as Fred cursed loudly. "Argh…! What the— _Ow_!"

Wasabi started forward now, looking concerned now. "Gogo, you shouldn't have done that."

She let out a puff of air she hadn't realized she'd been holding back. She wilted, her hands going up to press tightly to either side of her head. "…Oh my—" She flinched, suddenly remembering herself. "Fred, I-I'm sorry. I…I really shouldn't have…" She started to walk forward, looking disheartened. Fred shot her a glare from where he was bent at the waist, and Gogo jerked backwards. And quickly, she tried to figure out how she could possibly recover from pulling such a stunt like that.

Honey Lemon looked up as well, her eyes narrowing to shoot Gogo her own glower. But as she straightened, helping Fred to regain his balance, she suddenly stopped. The blonde went absolutely rigid with shock, and her eyes flew wide with alarm and confusion. She looked like she had suddenly caught sight of a ghost. It was a sudden change from her angry demeanor, and Gogo felt unnerved at the shift. Quickly, she reacted before she could think, whirling around to follow her friend's gaze.

And what she saw might as well have been a ghost.

Because…what she was looking at…certainly seemed…just as impossible.

It was…a robot.

_His_robot.

Tadashi's.

Gogo remembered the many long nights that Tadashi had spent holed up in his designated room, slaving over his creation. She remembered the hours that Tadashi had talked about his project— about his robot that would someday come to help each and every person in the world. He talked about his project almost as much as he talked about his little brother. _Almost._It had been his second-biggest pride and joy. But Gogo had been under the impression that it had been deactivated after the fire. She hadn't realized that it had been brought back here at all. That it was in the corner of his room and had been in the corner of his room this entire time.

She didn't realize that there would come another time when she found herself staring straight at Baymax.

He looked exactly like she remembered him. Just as soft and plushy as the day that Tadashi had introduced him to the group. He was stowed away at the corner of Tadashi's bed, having inflated from his charging station. The entire group had turned by this point to look; and each one of them shared that same befuddled look with the person standing next to them. And the look remained as, carefully and methodically, the robot on the other side of the room began to pick its way over to them.

It was very slow in moving. Every slight obstacle that stood in its way, it had to process and worm technically through it. The robot shuffled around the bed's perimeter and took care in sidling through the gap created in between the wall and the shielding screen. Its steps were small and shuffling like a baby penguin. All in all, it took about a full minute for it to make its way over to where the group was clustered at the foot of Hiro's bed.

Nobody spoke or moved at all. They just watched as the robot came to a stop in front of them. And as he did, the animatronic gave one, slow blink. It raised its right arm and moved its hand in a small motion that resembled a wave. And, in a soothing voice, it started to speak. "Hello," it greeted almost warmly. "I am Baymax. Your personal healthcare companion."

Still nobody spoke for a moment.

Wasabi did let out a small mumble, stunned. "…No way…"

Honey Lemon, taking advantage now that she wasn't the first to pipe up, looked from Fred to Baymax, alarmed. "I didn't know he was still…you know…"

Baymax, either completely ignoring their outbursts or simply unable to hear them, blinked once more and tilted his head to the side. "I heard a sound of distress," he stated neatly. "…What seems to be the trouble?"

This time nobody did reply. At all. They only stared.

And slowly, one by one, they all looked back at one another. Landing on the same idea.

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Fred took the initiative. As soon as Wasabi had parked the car outside, Fred had jumped out and headed quickly up to Hiro's room. Well— started to, anyway. When he got up to the ICU waiting room and asked to be buzzed in, he had been kindly informed that while they had gone back to the café, Hiro had been moved down to a lesser hallway. Not lesser as in less-cared-for, but lesser as in he wasn't needed to be watched as closely as he had been in the other section of the building.

So Fred had retraced his steps and mapped his route out to the other side of the hospital. He had texted Honey Lemon on the way to the new room as well, to save her and Wasabi the trouble of winding their way back like he had been forced to. Room 301 was where Hiro was being kept now, and, quickening his pace after taking a few wrong turns, Fred reached the boy's new room without _too_much delay. And, knocking on the door, he was called inside at once.

There was still a Sitter— this time she was located in the closest right corner. Fred nearly ran right into her upon his entrance. But he was more focused on the other people inside of the room as it was in the first place. The room was much smaller compared to the ICU one— it was probably next to half its area. Cass was sitting in an armchair beside the only window, though the shades were drawn just like they had been before. And she brightened significantly when she realized that it was Fred who was walking in over the threshold.

Triumphantly, Fred showed off what he was holding in his hand: Tadashi's old hat. It had taken a while to find, but they had. And the relief and gratefulness that was on Cass' face was certainly a sight to see. "Behold!" he exclaimed. "One super-duper hat up for delivery, huh?" It was now that he turned to look over at Hiro. And with what he saw, he was almost kind of pleased.

He guessed that once kids were taken out from the ICU and down to this floor, they could change out from those scrubs into their own clothes. Hiro was outfitted in some of the clothes that Fred remembered tossing into that bag. He was wearing jeans and a white tee-shirt, his same-old jacket pulled over it snugly. Hiro's knees were pulled up to his chest as he laid on his side, and he was looking up and over at the television that was mounted on the opposite wall. He looked like he still had a lot of nausea, but if he was here, then it must mean that the doctors were certain that his heart was steady enough to keep going without running into any problems.

But at the mention of a hat, the boy did perk slightly. Hiro turned, looking over and blinking as he realized what Fred was clenching in his hand. And as the boy's attention was won, the older teenage leaned over, handing the hat out and watching as the younger snatched it away immediately. He was surprised at the rather harsh grab, but he was even more surprised as Hiro offered a small: "Thank you." It was nothing more than a grumble at the most, but it was more than he had been expecting when it came to the kid— it was probably more than anybody would anticipate so far, if he was being honest.

"No prob, man," Fred assured. Then, trying to see whether or not he could wriggle something more out of Hiro, he turned in a small circle, surveying the new room with pursed lips. "Hey, this place is pretty cool, huh?" he prompted, Hiro reaching up and tugging the hat down over his head. He didn't reply. But Fred wasn't all that put-out. "I mean, it's a little bit smaller than your other one, but you've got a TV in here! And you've got actual walls— that's pretty cool, right? No more glass stuff; you've got your privacy now."

Hiro didn't reply, only reverting back to staring at the television. Some movie was on, but Fred had to wonder if Hiro was even concentrating on the plotline at all. He held back a small sigh, clasping his hands a little awkwardly behind his back. "So um…Aunt Cass?" he asked after a second, turning to look at her a little apprehensively. "I guess you'd want to talk about…?"

"Oh! Yes, yeah we need to get that ironed out," she said quickly, immediately latching onto the opportunity with a glance at the clock. She stood up from her chair and started to head out the door— Fred noticed that she didn't even try to say goodbye to Hiro. A good bet probably, considering the mention of something like this going on seemed to rub Hiro the wrong way even more. Trying to ignore the fact, the teenager just turned and followed Cass out. At their leave, the Sitter put their book down, sitting up a bit straighter in their chair as they turned to focus their attention onto Hiro instead.

And, knowing that he was under supervision, the two stepped out into the hall. Cass spoke first, looking frazzled and high-strung. "I'm sorry for being so pushy, Fred," she apologized at the forefront. "I'm just so concerned with how all of this is going to play out." She paused for a moment, biting down on her lower lip before clearing her throat. "So…did you— did you find somewhere? Did you land on something?"

Fred grinned widely. "Yup! I did!"

A vast amount of relief flooded into Aunt Cass' eyes at the answer. A beam split across her face, and Fred's smile only grew wider at the sight. It was nice to see her happy again; during these last few weeks he was starting to forget what it looked like on her face. Though his own smile seemed to waver slightly as questions began to file out of her mouth. "That's great, Fred! Oh my goodness; I can't thank you enough for this! Oh, what's its name!? Is it a good place? Are there a lot of other kids there? What's its success rate? Do you think he'll like it? How much does it cost?"

Fred took care in replying. He hesitated a moment, collecting his thoughts. But then he recovered and offered her a thumbs-up. "It's a great place! It's um…it's called Second Nature. It's like this backpacking thing— kids camp and stuff and have fun. I'm not sure how much Hiro likes camping, but I just didn't want to send him to some other hospital. I tried to find something that he would enjoy, right?" Cass gushed at this, and Fred went on, feeling a little bad but knowing that all of this would be for the best…hopefully. "I think it's got a really good rep and stuff. And it takes in a lot of people. And – for you – it won't cost a single thing!"

Cass seemed shocked at the fact. Quickly, she shook her head. "No, Fred, I want to—"

"Oh look, the others are here!" Fred cut in, catching sight of his friends coming down the hall. The pair looked relieved to have been able to find them correctly.

Cass glanced over her shoulder at this, and a frown came over her face. "…Where's Gogo?"

"Gogo?" Fred echoed. But then he realized what she meant, reaching up and rubbing the back of his neck awkwardly. "Oh! No, she uhm…she stayed behind at your house. She's organizing all of the…all of the info that the place needs. You know, like arranging the travel and stuff. With the…with the car and the plane, and—"

Aunt Cass frowned, worry flashing over her face. "Plane?" she repeated, suddenly looking disheartened. "You mean…it's really that far away? I won't be able to…see him?"

Fred blinked, looking hurt. He opened his mouth to reply, but Honey Lemon and Wasabi reached them before he could. And now that they had a plan in mind – not the best in history's records, but keep in mind that it _was_a plan, after all – Honey Lemon had recovered from her dip in mood. Now she was like she always was— all smiles as she dashed over to wrap Cass in a tight embrace. "Did he tell you?" she cheered, sounding ecstatic. "Did he tell you that we've got a place now? It's going to be _great_!"

Aunt Cass smiled, oblivious. Wasabi turned and eyed the girl warningly, though.

Fred gave a small cough. "We've just got to settle a few more things. But, uh…when do all the doctors want to kick him out of here?"

The woman seemed thoughtful. "I'm not sure. The sooner the better, probably. I suppose it just matters when you can arrange everything…" Wasabi and Honey Lemon exchanged a glance. That would be more of a question for Gogo. They weren't sure themselves on how soon things could be arranged. They just knew the basic outline; it was all they _could_ learn in such a short time as what they had. "I guess any time would be good. He was moved down here while you all were gone, so he doesn't need to be watched as closely anymore. All that's bothering him now is his head and his stomach, but it's been like that since yesterday, so…" She paused, then titled her head to the side. "What time _can_he leave?"

Fred looked over at the other two. …Did he even know the answer to that question?

Wasabi shifted his weight from foot to foot. "Gogo's kind of handling that part…"

Honey Lemon interjected quickly, in a rush to help. "Tomorrow morning. At eight." She sounded so sure of herself that Fred wondered whether or not they really had planned that far and he'd just forgotten. But he could tell by the look on Wasabi's face that they probably hadn't. Regardless, he nodded once, catching the notion that Cass was slightly pleased with the reply. Shipping him off tonight was probably too soon for her. She would want time with her nephew, however much he probably didn't share the same desire.

But there was one more thing that Fred had to cover. "Aunt Cass? There's one more thing…" She turned to look at him, seeming grateful for all he had done, yet he noticed how nervous she was by the tone of his voice. And truly, she probably should have been more nervous by this point. But she had no idea that she was being fed lies. Fred was just glad that the hospital wasn't demanding any kind of documentation— they were just asking for details and the spoken assurance that Hiro was going somewhere. And he _was_going somewhere— that wasn't the part that was up for debate. It was just left to be questioned whether or not it was _exactly_to somewhere like Second Nature…

"You can't be there with him. At the airport, I mean," he explained slowly, watching as Cass' expression wilted slightly. "It's part of the company's policy…they want to space the kid away from their parent as soon as they can. It's like…some part of their therapy. To make them realize what's going on a bit faster, you know? We were planning on taking him though, if that's okay with you. We'll make sure that he's all settled and stuff and won't run away or anything. But when we get there, there should be people waiting for him that'll actually like get on the plane with him. It's just…you'll probably need to say goodbye from the hospital."

Cass seemed slightly distressed. "You mean…I can't get on the plane with him? A-And then just ride back here? Why not?" Not waiting for an answer, which Fred had actually been prepared to give, for once, she went on, stumbling a little bit over her words. She shook her head, trying to shrug it off with a small exhale. "No— no, I shouldn't…I shouldn't try and complain. No, you've done a lot. And it means so much that you would work so hard as to try and find a place where Hiro would have fun too." Fred shuffled his feet a little bit, barely stifling an apprehensive clear of his throat. "No; t-that'll be fine. I'll just tell Hiro and let him know what's going to…" She trailed off, looking preoccupied for a moment. The teenagers exchanged uncomfortable looks, but remained silent.

Eventually the woman roused, forcing her back to straighten as she turned back to the trio. "Can you tell me more about it?" she asked.

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"Hiro?" Cass didn't dare to raise her voice up to anything more than a whisper. Though it was more for her sake than anyone else's. She wasn't even thinking of not waking up anyone else in the rooms around them— she was just trained on one thing: and that was making sure that her voice didn't break on her unexpectedly. It was 7:45 in the morning, and though she had woken up at four and had found herself unable to turn back over, she had given Hiro as much time to sleep as she could. After all, if he was going somewhere that would require backpacking and trekking like Fred had told her it would, her little boy would need as much energy as he could. And energy left over for whatever else was expected of him.

She had been given the run-down by the kids. It was a little weird that she was the one who knew the least about what was being handled. But she had anticipated such a thing, and she was more than alright with the idea. Fred had reassured her many a time that where Hiro was going was best for him. He had assured her that it wouldn't cost a thing and it was certainly the greatest way that they could go in such a short amount of time. She had searched the organization online and had been thrilled at what she had seen. All the different groups they had and what they were about, and, most importantly, all the pictures of the smiling children. She had wondered to herself whether or not this could be it— that maybe, two or three months from now, Hiro could be on the webpage as well, grinning a toothy smile and offering the camera a thumbs-up.

Because so far, he was the opposite. Cass, enthralled and excited and so, so relieved over how things were going, had tried to show him the website and get him the react in a similar manner. After all, he knew now that he wasn't going to another hospital. But the boy had just taken one look at the thing and merely turned away. He didn't seem interested at all with the prospect of going out and working on himself while also learning things like how to build fires or shelters. If Cass had heard him right, she had thought that the boy had mumbled something about how he lived in a city and how pointless something like that was.

But she tried to tell herself that she had heard him wrong.

The guardian reached down, giving Hiro's shoulder another light shake. "Hiro, baby; it's time to get up."

Hiro grumbled, grimacing as he tried to shrug her off. But she only repeated the small jarring motion, sighing gently. "Honey, it's time. You need to get ready, okay? The kids will be here soon to take you. And then you'll be heading for Second Nature, right?" Hiro still didn't move, so Cass withdrew, offering the Sitter a small, frazzled smile as she passed her. The girl offered a sympathetic grin in reply. Stooping down, Cass rummaged through the bag and brought out an outfit for her nephew— some jeans and a random tee-shirt. He would probably plan to wear his same jacket as well today.

"C'mon," she encouraged gently, handing him the clothes. "Get dressed."

Hiro's eyes opened, and surprisingly, he looked very much awake. …How long had he been pretending to be asleep? Cass seemed slightly surprised by the fact, and she started to ask aloud, but Hiro spoke before her. His blankets were drawn up to his nose, and Cass was unable to see his mouth move. She wasn't able to see that cute little gap in his teeth that she loved to make fun of. "…Please don't do this," Hiro mumbled, his own voice the smallest of whispers. Cass sobered at the last plea. And, sensing the idea, Hiro tried it again. "Please? I wanna stay with you. …Aunt Cass, Christmas Eve is tomorrow."

It killed her. But it was too late. It had been too late for quite some time. So she shook her head, leaving the clothes on his bedside and taking a step backwards. "I know," she said plainly, not even trying to disguise the sadness in her voice this time around. "And there's nothing I would want more in the world to spend Christmas with you; you know that." Hiro sat up in his bed, looking disgruntled and angry at being ignored for a second time around. He looked down with distaste at the clothes, and didn't make a move to reach out for it.

"This is stupid," he growled, the Sitter watching the scene with a small wince. Locking his jaw back and completely ignoring the girl, he looked at Aunt Cass with a scowl. "How long am I even going to be gone? Am I going to miss New Year's? Valentine's Day? Easter? My birthday?"

Cass turned around, managing to meet his stare as levelly as she could. "You didn't seem to care about missing those holidays two days ago," she stated in a clear manner. Hiro's face fell somewhat, and after managing to hold her gaze for a moment or so, he couldn't anymore as he just looked away. And, gathering the clothes, he started to change into the fresh outfit in a tempered silence. Cass looked on sorrowfully for a moment before turning away and looking out the window.

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Walking was harder than it should have been. After lying in bed for nearly three days straight, Hiro's legs were weak and felt like jelly. He felt like he would trip every other step, and after walking down about three hallways, the boy realized in shock that he was nearly out of breath. He didn't need crutches for his leg now, he was just fitted into a boot; and though he didn't have to have crutches anymore, the boot certainly didn't make walking any easier. It made walking even more awkward for him, if such a thing was possible. He was holding his duffle bag in his right hand, and he tried his best not to show much the effort of dragging it along was taxing him. Cass seemed to notice the degree of difficulty as she shortened her stride so that her nephew could keep up— an idea that irritated him and he did his best to ignore.

Instead, he looked down at his left arm, scowling at the bands that were locked around his wrist. They had both been mandatory, but Hiro was aching to just rip them off as fast as he could. One was white and covered in dark, fine print. Things like his name and what hospital he was at…stupid things like that. The other was smooth— dyed completely a dark red. Not for the first time, he gave an irritated grumble, looking off to the side with a glower. "I hate these stupid bands."

Cass glanced over at him with a blink. She looked down at his wrist and gave a small, sad sigh. "I'm sure that you can take them off once you leave," she assured. "But so far, the white one says who you are. And the red one—"

"I _get_what the stupid red one means," Hiro grumbled. It was his – best pun ever coming up right here – 'red' flag. To tell people why he was here if he ever found himself roaming the corridors alone. Well— it would tell people that he _shouldn't_ be roaming the halls alone. That he was a danger to himself and should be taken back immediately before any sort of harm could come to him or something like that. All in all, it was just as ridiculous as his other bracelet. He hadn't been alone at all since he'd gotten to this stupid place. Why bother giving him bands if he couldn't even blink without someone breathing creepily down his neck?

They came to a stop near the exit of the building. Other people were clustered there as well. Families and other patients that were waiting to be seen or, probably like Cass and Hiro, were waiting for a ride to take them back home. It was kind of funny how you couldn't really tell by looking around. They all just looked the same. Sitting around. Waiting for something other than what was in front of them now. Because that seemed to be what everyone was doing now.

Hiro's legs were starting to tremble and shake, so he turned and sat down in the chair nearest to him. Cass followed suit after a beat of hesitation. They had gotten down earlier than they expected, so there was some waiting to be done. Reaching up and tugging Tadashi's hat down a little bit snugger on his head, Hiro stared straight forward blankly. He spaced out for minutes— there was some kind of movie playing on a television at the front of the room, but he wasn't paying enough attention. He thought of getting out his phone and distracting him that way, when he remembered himself and the fact that his mobile was shattered into a bunch of different pieces right now. Probably in a landfill or shoved into a sewer.

Hm.

Maybe he should have thought that one through a little bit more.

A sudden noise dragged Hiro's attention to the side. It was a melody that at first, seemed unimportant. Until he realized that it kept repeating the same few lines over and over again, and that it was _super _annoying. He turned, his face pulling down into an irritated glower as he searched for the source of the cadence. And when he did, he blinked, his expression drooping a little bit.

It was a toddler. She couldn't have been more than three at the very most. She was hobbling around on unsteady legs, pushing a plastic shopping cart along and letting out a small giggle every once and a while. She was wearing bright yellow leggings and a pink-and-purple-polka-dotted shirt. Her shoes lit up every time they hit the ground, and in her cart in the front pocket was a princess doll. It was the source of the few short lines of song, and every time it came to an end of the irritating tune, the little girl jerked forward and pressed the toy's hand again. That must have been the trigger for the song, because the doll always started singing again right after the touch.

'_Let it go! Let it go! I am one with the wind and sky. Let it go! Let it go! You'll never see me cry!'_

Over and over the little toy sang, and Hiro watched with shock as the little toddler waddled her way towards him. Because he was slightly caught off-guard, and not by the toy and the immensely-idiotic tune. It was the girl herself that surprised him. It wasn't because of her mismatching clothes, and it wasn't because of the fact that she was walking pretty good for a youngster. It was because of what she was there for. What was obvious.

The little girl had cancer. Her head was completely void of any type of hair at all. She was skinny as a rail, and her eyes were slightly sunken back into her head. But despite the harrowing details of her appearance, the girl was giggling every other step, a wide grin spread over her pale face. Pressing the toy's hand over and over, she seemed to be having the time of her life in the waiting room of a hospital. Or at least she was having quite a bit of fun. Her father was lagging behind her, his hands in his pockets as he watched the little girl with a fond expression.

And as they got closer, the girl's attention veered towards Hiro. She grinned, turning and stumbling over his way. The boy went rigid, blinking rapidly as he sat up more. He tried to signal to the toddler to stop, but she certainly didn't. She only stopped when she was close enough to him, giving another light giggle as she turned down to bring out her princess doll. And, extending it over to the teenager, she gave a light chirp. "Elsa!" It was a single word— nothing more. But it seemed, to her, to be of vast importance. From where she was sitting, Cass was watching every second, looking a cross between pained and happy. Likewise, the father was watching closely as well, seeming pleased with every movement his daughter made.

Hiro offered her an awkward smile. "Uh…yeah," he mumbled, unsure of how to reply. "She's the…that new one…right?"

As if to answer, the little girl looked down, pressing on the toy's hand. She started up another round. _'Let it go! Let it go! I am one with the wind and sky! Let it go! Let it go! You'll never see me cry!'_This evoked yet another round of giggles from the small child, and Hiro smiled a bit more at the reaction. "Elsa! Elsa!" she cheered, waving the thing wildly in front of the teen's nose. Unsure, he wondered whether or not she wanted him to take it— is that why she was sticking it in his face? Hesitantly, he started to reach out, the sleeve of his jacket riding up a little bit with the motion. His bracelets were exposed; the red one flashed as if there was a spotlight on it.

The little girl didn't notice it; she probably didn't even care in the first place. Why would she? With the way she was treating that doll, it seemed like the world could explode and she would still be satisfied as long as that song would still play. But the father noticed it in a snap. And he couldn't have been a rookie with this place— not with what his three-year-old was going through. His eyes drilled into the band, and the smile on his face disappeared immediately as recognition flashed through his gaze. And at once, a sour look crawled over his features. In the back of his eyes, there was no mistaking the certain degree of anger and even disgust that started to rise there.

Hiro stopped mid-reach, blatantly aware of the reaction. Cass stilled as well, looking saddened by the change. The girl reached over and pressed the princess' hand for the millionth time, but she didn't have time to give out yet another giggle. Before she could, her father reached down, grabbing gentle hold of her shoulders as he started to steer her away. His expression resembled the way somebody would look if they had smelled something particularly foul, and his movements were rushed as he shooed his fragile daughter along. He had leaned down and he was mumbling a few words down her, but his words were much too soft to be heard and made sense of.

Hiro straightened, looking perplexed. He glanced down at his wrist, as if trying to wrap his mind around what had happened. His arm was still reaching out to take hold of the little girl's doll. He glanced over to the side, looking at Aunt Cass questioningly. His aunt only held his gaze for the briefest of moments. But this time, she was the one unable to hold his gaze. And she looked away quickly.

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Once Aunt Cass got the text from Fred, they got up and went outside. Hiro immediately grimaced, nearly blinded by the light that slammed into his eyeballs. He much rather preferred the dimness of the hospital room; now with all this snow everywhere – and it was _everywhere_– the light was thrown back at him and amplified, even. He screwed his eyes up against it, slipping on the sidewalk with every step. His legs were already screwed up enough; add ice to the mix and it was a mess. But at least the boot on his bad foot didn't slide as much. Even still, he was grateful that they stopped as soon as they got to the curb.

He put his bag down, reaching up and rubbing his arms for warmth as they waited for the car to be brought around. Cass shifted, looking uncomfortable. Her breath fogged out in front of her, and she was suddenly wondering if she should have given Hiro a better coat to wear. The woman turned, glancing down at her nephew. She felt her heart tug a little bit at the expression on his face— anger, irritation, sorrow…he looked like he was an entirely different person than he used to be. Would she ever see him that way again?

"Hiro," she said softly, breaking the silence in between them. Her nephew didn't reply, only looking down and scuffing the ground with the toe of his shoe. She sighed, frowning. Off to the side, she could see Fred's car coming up the parking lot— the teenager had told her what the vehicle looked like. Her stomach dropped at the sight, and as the car crawled closer, her hands balled into fists at her sides. She had known it was coming, but now it was here. And it slammed into her fifty times more painful than it had been up until this point. Hiro was leaving. He was leaving and he would be gone for months at the least. She wouldn't be able to hug him or kiss him or tell him she loved him. He would be miles away.

"Hiro." She turned, grabbing his shoulders and forcing him to turn around this time. He was jarred, stumbling with a grimace as he was forced to right himself. His stare was irritated as he collected himself, but Cass tried to ignore it as best she could. She crouched down on her toes, making herself as eye-level with her nephew as she could. "Hiro, honey, I know this is hard. Or at least…if it isn't hard for you, then it is for me. And I want you to realize that, alright?" Hiro just stared at her blandly. "I know that you don't like me very much right now; I understand. I hate it, and it hurts me so much to come to terms with something like that…but I understand why you might.

"It doesn't make it right. It doesn't make any of this right. But I want you to know that doing this is something that hurts me very much. I don't want to miss you; I want to be with you, honey, and I want to watch you grow and learn and change the world just like I know you can. But that's just the thing…I can't do that— unless I send you away now. Maybe if I send you away…maybe if I don't see you for just this short while…then I can see you for the rest of your life. Being happy." She sniffed, not realizing she was crying until she could feel stares from other people burning into her back.

Hiro just stared at her.

She shook her head, as if to clear it. "…I love you," she said, in a very final tone of voice. "And I hope that you get better sweetie, I do. I believe you can; now you just need to do the same." The car parked itself a few feet away from them, and through her blurry eyes, Cass could see that Fred was in the passenger seat, looking at her expectantly. This was when she had to leave. She gave a small nod, sighed, and looked back at her nephew. At the boy she loved just as fiercely as if he was her own son. "I'll see you soon; I know I will. And maybe when you get back we can start over. And be happy." Hiro blinked, watching as his guardian reached up to quickly rub at her eyes. "And I'll wait for you and I'll miss you every day. And I'll love you despite everything, okay?"

Hiro just stared.

She nodded once, having expected the silence. Though she was screaming on the inside, begging her nephew to say at least one last thing to her. But she restrained herself. By now, it was too late. She could only hope that by the time she saw her nephew, she could see his grin. She could only hope that by the next time she heard his voice, she could hear happiness vibrating in every syllable. She could only hope that the next time she came into contact with Hiro, she would be her Hiro once more. "Last hug," she whispered, her voice slightly fractured and frayed in some places. She leaned over and pulled her nephew close, shutting her eyes tightly. His arms were limp at his sides— he did not return the embrace. But such a fact only made her hold tighter to her child.

Fred got out of the car and weaved around to open the door for Hiro. He kept his distance, but it was very clear that he was waiting. Cass leaned forward, pressing a tender kiss to Hiro's forehead. And then she pulled away, hugging herself tightly, and not for the cold. Her face was smeared in tears, and her eyes were red and puffy. Hiro stayed put where he was for a few moments, just looking at her with a rather blank expression, his duffle bag clenched in his right hand. They were silent. Just staring. For Aunt Cass, there was nothing more to be said. Perhaps for Hiro, there was almost too much.

The small boy turned after a moment and headed for Fred's car. Cass watched him, and with every step, her heart tore. With every step, she was reminded of better times. That step was the time he had brought his compass he had made all by himself to show-and-tell during fifth grade. That step was when he had gone to the bay with Aunt Cass and they had thrown stones into the water. That step was when he had blushed upon Cass asking him why he was staring at that girl at the mall. Those steps were every time that he had told her 'I love you.'

She could not associate a happy memory with the final step it took to get him into the car.

It was merely what it already was.

It was the step that represented all of this mess.

It was the step that officially took him away from her.

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A/N: Thank you very much for all your reviews! I much more prefer writing when I get feedback! :) I think I'm going to wait until I get at least ten reviews as a standard before updating from this point on. I know it might be annoying, and I apologize, but I really work better this way I think. Plus, when it gets to being summer, I typically update things that get the most feedback so…

Anyway, starting next chapter things will pick up! I hope you all are very excited! Or at least as excited as I am! Sorry for the little tease of Baymax; but trust me, you'll get a fill of him starting next installment! Please tell me what you think! And thank you again for reading! ^.^

Update: The first two reviews I got for this story were a little confused. Sorrowfully they were from guests so I can't PM them and answer! But I'll clear it up a little bit here. And you're supposed to be a touch confused with this one. The kids have a plan, and they know where Hiro is going, but it's not what they've told Aunt Cass. Second Nature didn't work before, but they're merely using it as an excuse. You'll find out their plan in the next chapter if you haven't guessed it already. And the red band on Hiro's wrist marks him a suicidal patient. That way if he's wandering around the halls, people are made aware that he shouldn't be because he is a risk to himself.

Any other questions should be voiced- I'd be happy to answer. But know that this chapter was supposed to leave you a touch confused and wondering what will happen next :)


	13. Chapter 13

A/N: I'm so excited to write these upcoming chapters! I hope you're just as excited to read them!

Please review! It helps me out a bunch!

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For a long time, nobody spoke. There wasn't much to say. There wasn't much that anybody really _could_say. Too much had happened, and now everything seemed to hang in the air between them like fog. Wasabi was driving. Fred was in the passenger seat, and routinely, about every five seconds, the teenager would turn and glance back at Hiro, seeming somewhat apprehensive. But Hiro was ignoring the stares— instead he was turned very clearly to the side, his gaze slightly narrowed as he stared out the window. Honey Lemon was left to sit in the back beside him, and, just like Fred, she couldn't stop herself from looking over at Hiro every so often, though the worry in her face was much more apparent.

They had left the hospital quickly, not wasting much time at all. Hiro looked down at his hands, which were limp in his lap. The boy frowned, moving one arm so that it was face-up, and numbly, he reached over and nudged his jacket sleeve up bit by bit. He blinked slowly, tilting his head to the side as he looked at the thick wrapping of gauze that was underneath the layer of clothing. His hand clenched and unclenched slowly, and he grimaced at the feeling of the bandages barely scratching over the wounds underneath. It wasn't as painful as it used to be— before, when he had first gotten the wounds, his whole limb prickled and twitched like embers were embedded underneath the wrappings. Now it was just uncomfortable.

Whether or not that was better was left to be decided, he guessed.

But after a heartbeat, his eyes were caught onto something else. And as he looked up at his wrist and the bracelets that were still strapped into place there, his expression sank into a deeper sort of scowl. The father's reaction from before lingered in the back of his mind, and his jaw locked backwards as he glared at the stupid things. He wanted nothing more than to rip them off right then and there, but he knew that the effort would just cause him unnecessary pain. The things were laminated and tight— he couldn't rip them off and he certainly couldn't slip them off. He couldn't even pry them off. He would need scissors to accomplish such a feat; until them they were seemingly permanent.

He held back an angered huff and turned, leaning over and pressing his forehead against the glass of the car window with a brooding expression. Once again, Honey Lemon looked over at him. And once again, he ignored her. But he was running out of other things to focus on besides the suffocating silence around him. Hiro tried to remember what Aunt Cass had told him about the place he was going. But it was hard to recollect a lot of soluble memories at the moment, even from just a short time ago.

His mind was sluggish and uncoordinated. Everything that had happened recently was like a blur. The memories resembled something hazy and far away— like he was sitting at the bottom of a pool and trying to make sense of what was going on up on the surface. The last real tangible thing he remembered was sitting at a table petting Mochi. He assumed that it had been back at the bakery; it was the only logical assumption. But everything from there was muffled and awkward. He was grasping for some kind of an answer to the blank space in his mind, but that was all it was: a blank space. There was nothing there for him to hold onto.

He swallowed back a groan of frustration. His head hurt, and he was exhausted. All he wanted to do was lay down and curl up to fall back asleep. But from his understanding, he was supposed to get onto some kind of plane, and that automatically ruled out any kind of hope for a rest. He reached up and drew a hand through his hair, grimacing deeply. Stupid— that's what this entire situation was. It just stupid. He wanted to stay, he didn't want to go to some place that he had no idea about. He didn't want to 'meet new people' as Aunt Cass had so delicately phrased it. He didn't want to 'find himself in nature.' He didn't want to do that at all. It was just stupid.

A few more minutes passed, Hiro silently boiling in his seat. But the longer that time stretched on, the more aware Hiro became of what was going on. He straightened somewhat in his seat, looking outside as his forehead slowly creased over. This was…this was wrong. …Right? Hiro might not have been able to remember a few things that had happened in the past, but he knew this city like it was the back of his hand. He'd grown up in it, and most importantly, throughout the past few weeks, he'd been trekking throughout the entire place. So he knew one thing that was for certain: this wasn't the right way to get to the airport.

He didn't feel like breaking the silence; silence was something that he had craved and craved for recently. And now that it was here, he wasn't inclined to actually be the one to cut it short. But after a few more minutes dragged by, Hiro found that it was getting harder and harder to keep his questions back. So he spoke up after a while, still staring out the car window with a quizzical expression. His voice was rough and scratchy, yet he tried not to notice how weak it came across. Instead he just pressed his forehead to the glass, his voice quiet as he mumbled: "This isn't the way to the airport."

He wasn't looking, but he was under the impression that Honey Lemon cringed away as soon as the words passed his lips. He turned, looking over with a puzzled expression. But if the blonde had flinched, she recovered as quickly as she had buckled in the first place. Instead, now she had looked down at her lap, seeming to focus on her hands as they clenched and unclenched routinely. Hiro felt a twinge of suspicion as he turned to look up to the front of the car.

Wasabi hadn't changed in the slightest. He remained cool and collected, and Hiro's eyes narrowed even further at the teenager. He looked calm on the inside, but there was almost another layer underneath the primary one. Something that Hiro couldn't really grasp for himself. The teenager's own gaze hardened, and he turned to look over at Fred, noticing that the older teenager had leaned over to the side, drumming his fingers on the handle of the car door.

Fred was the person to reply eventually, and though he seemed to be trying to keep his voice nonchalant, Hiro was still on-edge as his eyes bored into the boy. "Yeah, I left some stuff at my house. We have to go back and get it." He leaned on the palm of his hand now, balancing his chin there as he turned to look out the window. Hiro scowled at the obvious attempt to avoid his gaze and he turned back to glower outside once more.

There was another long pause, and he cleared his throat after this gap. "…So when does the plane leave, then?"

Surprisingly, nobody replied this time around. Hiro blinked, turning away from the window. He looked around, to each and every person that was around him. But nobody even turned to meet his gaze. They were avoiding not only his questions, but now it seemed to be him in general. The boy scowled, a sense of anger sinking into his stomach as his jaw locked backwards. "Guys!" Still nothing. Honey Lemon seemed slightly uncomfortable at this point. And the boy bristled even more, gritting his teeth together in frustration. "What time does the plane leave?"

Wasabi answered, his voice quick. If Hiro had been able to focus more, he would have realized the tense sort of vibration that his tone held. "It leaves at three." Hiro looked over to the digital clock on the dashboard, having to twist his neck out a little awkwardly in order to do so. It was just now getting close to eleven. That didn't make sense— Aunt Cass had made it seem like he was just being taken straight to the airport for a plane out to…wherever this place was. But now it was suddenly hours away. That…didn't really connect.

He opened his mouth, starting to voice the question aloud. But he took it back before he could give himself the chance to. He much rather preferred the silence, and suddenly the teenager didn't feel like breaking it any longer. What was the point, anyway? Regardless of the details, this whole situation was still happening no matter what he said or did. Why should he complain if he was just being given more time to avoid going out to this organization or whatever it was? He should be grateful for such a break.

So he turned away and let out a small sigh through his nose. And as everyone fell silent once more, Hiro stifled a yawn, his eyes feeling heavy as they began to blink a little slower. He started to doze off, unable to keep himself awake as his head dipped forward a little bit. He didn't really sleep well during the night— every other hour he felt like he would jerk awake from a nightmare or from some kind of a bad feeling constricting his chest. And after everything that had happened, Hiro's mind was spastic enough that he hardly noticed that he was nodding off.

But Hiro didn't get the chance to fall asleep fully. Before he could, he felt the car suddenly come to a stop and pull into park. The engine was choked off, and a different kind of silence settled over the space— a much more dead kind of quiet. Hiro's eyes opened, the boy having to literally pry them apart in the effort that now, suddenly seemed much more to bear. He reached up and rubbed his eyes with the back of one hand, grimacing a little as he held back yet another yawn. He turned to the others, his hand falling down to his seat with a slap as he realized that they were all just sitting there.

It was then that yet another question squeezed itself into his mind.

"Where's Gogo?" he asked, suddenly realizing that there was a piece missing to the puzzle.

Honey Lemon perked, clearing her throat and straightening somewhat in her seat. "She's inside." Before Hiro could say anything in response, she brightened, grinning in a way that seemed a little bit more forced than it should have been. "Let's go in! I brought some cookies along with me this morning, they're in the kitchen!" The others seemed to take the words as final; they immediately turned as it on some kind of signal and unloaded the car.

Hiro blanched, remaining where he was for a few moments. He wasn't sure on what he was supposed to do. But as the group of friends paused and lingered outside the car, he figured that they expected him to follow. Why couldn't he just stay in the car and wait for them to get back? Weren't they just going out to pick up some things? Why did he have to go in? Glancing down at his wrist again, he held back a small sigh, figuring with a flash of frustration that that was probably the reason. He muttered something underneath his breath and turned, opening the door with a hard shove and easing himself down onto the ground. He grimaced with a little bit of discomfort at the feeling of the brace over his foot.

Turning and looking up at the house that they had parked in front of, Hiro stiffened, momentarily forgetting his anger and bitterness as instead he felt a sense of surprise. He glanced over at Fred, slightly stupefied. This place was…_huge._Fred lived _here_? He looked up at the towering building in front of him, his mouth running slightly dry from the mere sight of the thing. It was _mansion_. The sight was so impressive that he stopped short for a moment, his angry attitude immediately spacing as he just stood there, staring a little stupidly.

Honey Lemon and the others had turned, and they were slowly making their way back up the steps to where the grand front door was. The blonde was the first to stop short when she realized that the boy wasn't following, and she turned around, already wondering whether or not their plan was falling apart. It wasn't even a plan in the first place. But was Hiro already trying to get away? Was he hanging back to spite them? Or – even worse – had he taken off in a run? The city was huge; he could run away and be lost all over again like he had before.

She turned back, already bracing herself to run. She was in heels, but she could certainly be better at running than Hiro would be at the moment; the boy looked like he could fall asleep standing up. But once she did turn, she blinked, straightening as she tilted her head to the side. Hiro looked…almost different. The boy seemed surprised, that much was for certain. He was standing outside the car, the door still ajar. He was just staring ahead, his eyes round as he tipped his head back to look at the building in front of him.

But it was beyond the look of primary shock that Honey Lemon was focusing on. In the back of his gaze, apparent even from where she was standing, the girl could see very clearly a sense of…interest. A spark of life that, in regards to the past few weeks, seemed to have died off. But now, it was like the impossible had happened. It was a faint spark, and as she stared at him, it was gone after just a few sparse seconds. But she remembered those nights she had spent with Hiro while he was building his project for the Showcase. And his expression – though much more distant – was almost the same. Interested, as well as curious. An old kind of spark that had dulled over recently.

She couldn't tell whether or not the sight was extremely encouraging with what they were trying to accomplish, or whether or not it was just extremely saddening.

"Hiro?" As soon as Honey Lemon called over to the boy, he straightened, and she watched with a sorrowful stare as his expression immediately reverted back to normal. Or well…back to the way that it had been ever since Tadashi had died. The lingering spark immediately blinked out of sight, his face falling and being dragged back into the dark place it now seemed to reside in. His expression became stony and dull, and Honey Lemon's voice was noticeably softer as she cleared her throat and went on. "…C'mon…" Pausing, and trying to spark that little bit of life back into him, she added hopefully: "Don't you wanna go inside?"

But, to her disappointment, Hiro didn't react in such a way a second time. He turned and glanced back at the car, his expression a little torn, as if he really would rather have stayed inside the car to wait. He stuffed his hands into the front pocket of his hoodie, and, hunching his shoulders and walking a little awkwardly thanks to his boot, the boy started after the others. They picked up their pace and continued up the steps, a little slowed as they realized that Hiro couldn't match their pace thanks to his bad foot. It took them a little longer than normal to scale the entryway, but it was a minor detail. The other teenagers were too on-edge on what was about to happen to be impatient about their progress.

Fred came to stop in front of the door, and he reached up to give a loud knock. Hiro was plodding after a little slower than them, seeming wilted as he sighed underneath his breath. But he came to a stop nonetheless, watching with a half-lidded stare as they waited for their arrival to be answered. Wasabi glanced over at Honey Lemon, a small look of unease flickering over his features as he looked over at the blonde with a stroke of worry. She looked back just as apprehensively, but glanced away, down at her wringing hands instead.

There was a small sound of moving on the other end of the door, and the group perked in sync as it was opened with a small creak. A stony-faced butler was over the threshold, and the man regarded the kids in front of him with some kind of odd respect. "Welcome home, Master Frederick," the man greeted softly, already stepping to the side in order to allow them enough space for entrance. He turned, catching sight of the smaller boy standing partly away from the group. His hair was a disheveled mess and dark bags hung low underneath his eyes. He looked exhausted and weary and as soon as the man looked over to him, the young boy seemed to tense and bristle. And in regards to him, the butler dipped his head. "This must be him, then, am I correct in assuming such?"

Hiro blinked rapidly, his eyebrows knitting together. He started to say something, his mouth opening as a sense of confusion started to settle over him. Hurriedly, Fred interjected with a sharp cough, stepping forward and sidling inside of the mansion before Hiro could get a word out. "Yeah, well, we're coming inside, Heathcliff, so how about you go and…" He made an awkward gesture with his hands. "…I dunno, do whatever you go and do when you're done opening the door."

The man blinked slowly, going to survey the others that were filing in. But regardless he nodded once. "Of course, Young Master." He turned on his toe and walked away, Hiro feeling a stoke of surprise at the fact that his footsteps actually echoed as he walked away. He started to ask more about what was going on, because he certainly had quite a few to ask.

But before he could he was floored a second time, blinking as he looked all around him. The place was even more luxurious than it was on the outside if such a thing was even possible. Yet instead of being awed, a small frown creased over his features. This place was _giant_. It was _unnecessary._Hallways seemed to branch out in every direction, and the staircase directly in front of them seemed to stretch on into infinity. Grand portrait paintings seemed to be everywhere he looked, and Hiro eyed the area around him with confusion. Why was he even _here_? He was supposed to be on an airplane right now, right? Or at least heading or the airport or getting ready! Everyone was just standing around like they had all the time in the world. True that they had a few hours at their disposal, but…it was weird. …Right? It felt that way.

Hiro had walked forward a little bit to step inside, and suddenly there was a small sound behind him. It was barely noticeable, but in the silence that congested the air around them, it was immediately picked up. Hiro turned, and his shoulders stiffened as his eyes fell onto Wasabi. The older teenager had doubled back to the door; Hiro made the connection as he guessed that the small noise had been a shutting one. Wasabi had closed the door and was now lingering in front of it. And after a few moments, Hiro came to the realization that he wasn't just lingering in front of it— he was _blocking_ it. It was almost like he was preventing Hiro from reaching the exit.

His first impulse should have been one of fear or suspicion. But the boy only seemed to grow irritated, his eyes narrowing a little bit as he looked at the three people in front of him. And at first, none of them spoke up, just looking awkward as they glanced at one another. It was like when a kid had something bad to say to a parent— they were fidgeting and trying to find a way to phrase the words correctly or something. And eventually, Fred cleared his throat, deciding that the silence was left to be broken by him. "Hiro, we've gotta talk to you…"

The younger boy didn't respond, just staring silently at them, expectant.

Fred glanced down at the ground, giving a small sigh. "You see…Aunt Cass was really upset about what happened and everything, and when the doctors told her she needed to find a place to send you, it didn't really help at all." He glanced up at Hiro to see whether or not the boy was fazed, but he just blinked slowly. So Fred gave a small clear of the throat and went on, a little hesitantly. "So I offered to find you a place to go, but I couldn't really…find anywhere that you'd wanna stay, you know? All I found you would hate…right?" Again, he waited for a reply, but again, he was left to be disappointed. "It was all like these crazy hospitals. And…I think I speak for all of us when I say that those aren't the best things for you."

Hiro did speak up after this, but his voice was flat and harsh. "What about that other place? The one Aunt Cass was showing me pictures of?" He wasn't saying that he was keen on the idea of going there— it was quite the opposite. But he was just trying to sort through everything. Hospitals? The one that Aunt Cass had been ranting about hadn't been that way. And there was a website for it and everything— why wasn't he going there? Wasn't his plane leaving in a few hours? So where was the plane leaving? The more he thought about it the more he grew confused. What was going on?

Honey Lemon piped up with this, easing the burden on Fred. "It was the best place for you to go, but we couldn't make it work. We had to get Fred's dad to sign off on it and we couldn't reach him. So…" She trailed off for a moment, shifting her weight from foot to foot. "So we decided that we wouldn't just give up and send you somewhere you would hate. It would…well, it would kind of ruin the entire point of all of this, you know? We figured that…maybe with a little help…we could help you ourselves?" Her words didn't end on a very confident note. It was more like it was a question or a plea than anything else.

At first, Hiro was too perturbed to reply. When he finally roused himself, the boy blinked rapidly, a crease in his forehead now as he tilted his head a little bit to the side. "You…you _what_?" His mind was trying to wrap around everything, but it was a little difficult. He turned around, looking from one expanse of a wall to the next, a scowl quickly overcoming his features. No. No— this wasn't okay; not at all. "You said that I was—" He let out a short huff, and shook his head, trying to clear it. "I'm _not_staying with you guys. Okay? I'm not."

Wasabi gave a small sigh, but he stayed where he was in front of the door. "Hiro, it's either you stay here or you go somewhere depressing with a bunch of people just like you." The way he said the last part made it seem like some kind of an insult. But Hiro was far from paying attention enough to feel offended over the idea. Instead he gritted his teeth, his hands balling into fists in his hoodie as the other went on. "We've got everything here that you would need, and this way things might be a little easier to sort through, you know? We want to help you and—"

"_Listen_to me," Hiro growled, cutting him off. Wasabi seemed a little taken aback by the interruption, but he shut his mouth and complied, however reluctant he seemed to feel. The boy brought his arms out of his hoodie, pointing a finger in between him and the three that were standing a few feet away. It was like they were trying not to get close to a ticking time bomb. But he shoved the thought aside, his nerves only sparking even more. "We? Us? We're not _friends_, okay? Do you not realize that!?" Nobody spoke in reply, they just turned and looked at one another, seeming a little hurt. But he pushed that aside too. "We're not friends," he repeated harshly. "You were _his_friends, but that _does not mean_you're automatically the same with me. _Okay_? Especially now. I'm _not_staying here."

Surprisingly, Honey Lemon was the one to reply. And, just as shockingly, her voice was rather cold as it bridged the gap in between them. Granted, it was still softer than the others', but it was still rather uncharacteristic of her to adopt such a manner of tone. "Where else will you go?" The question was simple, but the answer was anything but. And this fact was made clear as Hiro blinked, stopped a little short as he blanched a little bit. He didn't know the answer to that question.

He didn't know where else he could go. He couldn't go back to Aunt Cass— disregarding the fact that he wanted nothing to do with her anymore, she probably wouldn't even take him in the first place after everything. He couldn't go back to Redhead— the mere thought made his skin crawl as he remembered that night at the party. He wasn't going back to some kind of hospital; not in a million years. And he had pretty much proved to himself that living on his own in the streets wasn't really top on his list of talents. And with the way that snow was starting to quite literally dump itself onto the streets of the city, the thought wasn't appealing that way either. He could take his duffel bag and go; it enclosed pretty much all of his winter clothes as well as a few summer ones if he wasn't mistaken. He could maybe get by with all of that, but still…

That was the point, he realized with a sinking feeling in the pit of his chest. That was what was wrong: he didn't have anywhere to go anymore. He didn't anything to do. He was just…here. Existing. That was what his problem had been ever since the night of the Showcase, and once more it was rearing its ugly head, making itself more than apparent for the millionth time it seemed. The boy felt his throat swell and burn in the sense of his helplessness, and he tried to concentrate on not blinking so that he could not dislodge any kind of excess water that might be building up there. His voice was scathing as he mumbled: "So this is it?" Nobody replied— they just stared his way a little blankly. There was the smallest hint of pity in everyone's gazes, and it turned Hiro's stomach even further to acknowledge the emotion. His voice was a little louder as he went on. "You're just going to force me to stay here? You think that's what'll fix things? _This_is your plan!?"

Honey Lemon shook her head. When she replied, her voice was softer and gentler, more like its old self. "We just want what's best for you, Hiro. And we really think that maybe you can learn to—"

"This is _kidnapping_!" Hiro yelled, his voice raising into a sharp scream now.

Fred cringed a little bit, but he was armed with a rebuttal. "It's more like an _intervention._"

Hiro whirled around, glaring at him. "Oh, you're just so full of _crap_!"

Honey Lemon's arms went down to her sides and she clenched her hands tightly. "Hiro, please!"

Wasabi broke through. His gaze was hard as he took a few paces forward, stepping away from the door, albeit reluctantly. He told himself that it wasn't a big deal— in terms of capability, Hiro wasn't really that fit to take off into a sprint at the moment. This was more important, and the teenager narrowed his eyes as he surveyed the boy. "Look, Hiro. I know that this isn't ideal— do you think it's ideal for _anyone else_here? It's not! But we're going this for you, and we just need you to try and cooperate; or at the very least fake to." He tried to ignore Hiro's harsh glower and went on as best he could. "We're just going to stay here together for a while, we've arranged everything. That's all you have to do is stay here; it's easy compared to what you would have to do anywhere else, right?

"We're not going to make you do anything that you don't want to here, we just want you to get better." Still, Hiro's expression went unchanged. But still, Wasabi plowed on. "At a hospital, you would have to give away your hoodie and you would have to ask to go to the bathroom and you would be forced to go to therapy sessions. At that other place, you would be forced to sleep in the snow and find your own food. Here we just want you to try and be happy again." His voice had wilted somewhat now, and it was clear that there was a light of sadness lingering in the back of his gaze. "That's all we want you to do— isn't this place better compared to anywhere else?"

Hiro didn't speak for a moment. And he did, his words were hissed out through clenched teeth. "You can't just _make_me better," he growled. He ignored Wasabi's expression and turned away, his eyes narrowed as he glared sideways at the ground. "You can't make _anything_better, okay? Get off your high horse."

Fred stuffed his hands into his pockets. "Hiro, it's not a high horse, it's—"

"He's _dead_!" The shout was harsh and biting. It was sudden, and unexpected, and it certainly was enough to cut off not only Fred, but anyone who was prepared to speak after he was through. Hiro had whirled back around, his head snapping up and his eyes blazing as he glared over at the others in front of him. Honey Lemon's eyes rounded out slightly, and Wasabi jerked backwards, as if slapped without any kind of warning. Fred blinked, his face falling noticeably as he shut up at once. Hiro's arms had long since wriggled out of his hoodie, and he ducked his head down, reaching up and drawing his hands through his hair messily. The movement caused his jacket sleeves to budge upwards a few inches, and the teenagers were once again reminded of the entire situation as his bandages were revealed underneath.

Silence clogged the room— nobody was daring enough to break it this time around as they just stared emptily at the young boy. Hiro gritted his teeth, and when he opened his eyes again, tears were glinting brightly in the light of the well-lit mansion. He swallowed thickly, and, the ghost of a wince playing over his features, he went on in a just-as-harsh mumble. "He's dead. There's no fixing that. You can't…you can't just…_fix_that. Okay?" His voice wasn't as accusing as it had been. It was just…much tireder…if such a thing made sense. He was still angry, there was now question. But not at them— not at the moment. He was angry at something else: himself…the situation. Maybe. "You can't fix it. So just _stop_. Stop it. Please."

Honey Lemon blinked, pained beyond relief at that last word. She broke eye contact and looked down at the ground instead. Wasabi seemed just as floored. Before, he had been getting a hold of the situation, albeit slowly. Now he seemed to have taken three steps backwards, and he turned slowly, looking over at Fred with a silent question on his lips. Fred just reached up and tugged his beanie a little tighter down over his head, looking sorrowful as he surveyed the boy across from him. Nobody spoke or made a move. In the face of what was going on, it was as if they had hit a roadblock.

And then suddenly something came to their aid, as if on a silent signal.

But it was a little bit earlier than anticipated.

They had said that they would wait. They hadn't been sure on how Hiro would react, and they were in complete and unanimous agreement that if something were to happen to cause the boy any more pain, it would be avoided like the plague. But nevertheless, whether it was on accident or on purpose, Gogo came into the foyer, her hands stuffed into her pockets as she walked soundlessly. The girl looked slightly surprised at the scene in front of her, though surely she couldn't have missed Hiro's yelling on her way down here. Blinking rapidly, the girl turned and looked over at the boy, looking a cross between confused and anxious. Yet when she spoke, her voice was as cool as ever. "I didn't think you guys would be back so soon."

Hiro turned, looking over at her from the corner of his eye. But he didn't turn her way and he certainly didn't call out a greeting.

Fred shrugged. "Traffic wasn't as bad as we thought it would be."

Gogo turned and looked over Hiro. "I see that the news wasn't taken so well."

Honey Lemon grimaced. "Gogo…" Her voice was tinged with warning.

The other seemed to realize this well enough. She turned with a clear of her throat, blinking and forgetting Hiro for the moment. Instead she seemed to address the others, though she could not mistake the way that Hiro seemed to turn towards their exchange a little bit. "I did all I could. Thankfully it wasn't too hard— it was mostly just finding the right stuff to download off the internet; I'm glad that I didn't have to tinker around or anything. I'm not really that great at things like that…or at least things of this caliber." She paused, seeming to go over a few more things mentally before sweeping forward. "But I was thinking, and I realized that it's kind of stupid to keep it a secret or anything. The sooner they get acquainted, the less awkward it'll be."

Wasabi straightened, and Honey Lemon fluffed up with a hint of anger. "Gogo!" The blonde glanced quickly over to the hall, and then over to Hiro in turn. "Gogo, this isn't what we decided would happen!"

Still, the girl was unfazed. She just shook her head. "But if he's going to do this, then—"

Fred seemed to be on her side. "Honey Lemon, it's fine."

Wasabi wasn't as on board. "I don't know, maybe we should think about this a little bit more."

Gogo sighed. "What's to _think_about?"

Hiro straightened, turning with a small frown as another sound made itself known underneath the bickering that was taking place in front of him. It wasn't very loud at all. The only reason that he was aware of it in the first place was because it sounded so…weird. Like a light shuffling or…rustling noise. The boy's eyebrows pulled together, and, not paying attention, he reached up to rub his eyes with the back of his arm, the boy ignoring the small burst of pain that following the motion. Instead he shoved it aside and perked, tracking the sound as it was coming up from the hallway that Gogo had emerged from. No sooner had he turned did the others seem to notice the noise as well. Their petty arguing died off at once, and all eyes went over to the hallway. Honey Lemon seemed apprehensive, and her eyes flickered between the hall and Hiro, the girl biting down hard on her lower lip. Gogo seemed the opposite though— her stare was level, and she almost seemed relaxed as she crossed her arms over her chest, leaning back a little bit into her hips.

At first Hiro wasn't sure what it was. He figured that maybe it was just the butler coming back to say something else. There wasn't a lot of others things that he could associate with that awkward swishing noise. But slowly, as the noise got closer, the boy's confusion only deepened. No, it wasn't the butler. He had never seen Heathcliff before, and he _knew_this sound. It was familiar— he had heard it before. But from _where_?

He was grasping for any kind of recollection, because he _knew_the noise; he was positive. But his mind was too foggy and hazed— it was like trying to see something far away when there was a fog surrounding you. You could make out _something_but you couldn't pin down specific details. He found himself taking a small step forward, towards the oncoming noise. Yet no sooner had he gotten a little closer, did he suddenly stop short, stiffening as his eyes widened and rounded out. At first he wasn't sure what was happening; he thought it must be some kind of joke. But if it was a joke, it certainly wasn't funny. At all.

Fred shifted, watching Hiro with a careful look. Honey Lemon turned and shot a glare Gogo's way, but if the girl noticed, she gave no heed. She just watched with a careful stare, hardly even blinking.

The thing shuffled forward, its feet barely scraping over the ground as it wriggled into the foyer. It moved slowly, but it might as well have been sprinting forward for the reaction that was garnered from Hiro. The teenager skittered backwards three steps, his entire posture going rigid and tense as he looked at the thing. Even with his bad memory, there was no mistaking what this was; and as soon as he recognized the thing, he wished that he had hadn't. It forced him to remember too much. His teeth gnashed together and his eyes narrowed slightly. He found himself immediately glaring at the thing with a sense of something akin to hatred.

Honey Lemon shifted uncomfortably, turning over and watching as Baymax came to a stop, the white robot giving one long and slow blink. He tilted his head to the side, seeming to mull something over briefly. Hiro remained as still as a statue, his jaw locked backwards in what looked like an uncomfortable position. It was obvious that the mere sight of the robot was enough to set him off. And it only seemed to make things worse when Baymax finally turned and rested his gaze onto Hiro. "Hello." The young boy jerked backwards, his eyes immediately flooding with anger. "I am Baymax. Your personal healthcare companion. I have been activated in order to—"

Hiro wasn't listening. He rounded on Fred, nearly spitting with anger. "What is he doing here!?"

Fred raised his arms up, his palms facing outwards as if in a sign of surrender. "Hiro, you've gotta take a chill pill, man." Honey Lemon fluffed over with irritation with the stupid comment, rolling her eyes. But thankfully she didn't speak out against him yet another time. "Baymax is here to help too. We found him inside your room when we went back to get your stuff. He's going to handle all the stuff that we can't."

Gogo cleared her throat. "And?"

Fred shot her a look, his cheeks blowing out in a sign of frustration. Gogo, unlike any of the others, didn't seem keen on beating around the bush at all. But after a heartbeat Fred did turn back to Hiro, his hands still raised up halfway. "Yeah, and…he's going to stay with you."

Hiro scowled. His voice was hard as he growled: "Yeah; no he's not."

Wasabi cleared his throat, reeling in attention. "Yes, Hiro, he is. You don't have a choice." Hiro turned, his mouth halfway open as he scrambled for something to say. His eyebrows were pulled together in a sign of anger, but no matter how far he reached for something he could throw back at them, it wouldn't work. It felt like he was being crammed full of information, and he was starting to overflow or something. Seeing the way that the boy seemed stumped for the moment, Wasabi took the chance to go on without having him interrupt. "Thankfully all we had to get Baymax to do was just download information on the computer on how to handle a situation like this." Hiro turned, looking back at the robot with daggers. Baymax only blinked and tilted his head to the side. "He's going to scan you every hour and if anything happens, then he'll be there to help you. That's the only rule that we're gonna have: you've got to have Baymax with you wherever you go."

"And if I don't?" Hiro challenged hotly.

Gogo took this question, seeming unimpressed by the attempt at rebellion. "Then we won't be so conscientious. We didn't send you to one of those hospitals because we wanted you to be happier. But if you won't cooperate here, then we won't hesitate anymore. You'll be back inside of a brick building before you can say 'whoops.'" The threat was handed out carelessly, as if it didn't really hold the weight that it did.

Hiro blinked a few moments, as if having to mull over the warning. But quickly he drew backwards, his hands clenching at his sides. Agonizing, he looked from the group of friends to Baymax, his stomach clenching in on itself with anger. He didn't say anything— there wasn't anything that he could really say that wouldn't just dig a bigger hole for him or make him look stupid. Seething, he shoved his hands back into his front pocket, fuming as he looked away. For a few heartbeats, silence filled the foyer. Yet this time it was broken by Honey Lemon. "Hiro, do you want me to show you your room?"

He didn't reply. For a few seconds he debated just walking away entirely. But he knew that such a move would be a little bit more than idiotic— this place looked like a maze, and he knew without a doubt that he would just get lost. So after a while he turned and just stared blandly her way, waiting. The blonde glanced over at the others and then tried to offer Hiro a bright smile, though it was worn around the edges. "C'mon then. We set up one of the guest rooms on this floor— we figured that you wouldn't do too well with the stairs, you know?" Hiro still stayed silent, and she gave out a small, awkward noise before turning, beckoning him along.

He sighed through his nose, lingering a moment more. But then he caved, hunching his shoulders and starting after her. He leaned down and picked up his duffel bag on the way, which Wasabi had brought in for him. And bitterly, he tried to scoop it up roughly, struggling to show his derision for the situation that, now, he was quite literally trapped in. His frustration only mounted as he realized that Baymax hurriedly began to walk after Hiro, as if he was some kind of a dog on a leash. His eyes were trained solely on Hiro, as well as his focus. And the boy growled deep in his throat, noticeably quickening his pace. From behind him, the swishing noise quickened as well as Baymax increased his pace in turn.

Honey Lemon glanced back, realizing that the others had stayed put at the entrance of the house. They were probably hanging back to talk, and the girl frowned worriedly as she wondered whether or not she would miss anything. She was a little irritated over the idea that she was left to deal with Hiro all on her own now, though she kept the thought to herself, obviously. Instead she kept herself as bright as she could, turning around and offering him another small grin. Yet his bland look remained. "I know that it's a little much at first…and believe me, this is the last resort…but…I think maybe this can be good for you."

Hiro scoffed. But he didn't reply.

She hesitated a moment before trying again. "Well, you know…you never know. Right?" She tried to give out a small laugh, but it was awkward and lame. Geez, all these efforts were falling miles short of where they were supposed to land.

"Why do you even care?" Hiro's voice was dulled over when he ask this, as if he wasn't really wanting an actual answer. But when Honey Lemon turned back and looked his way, he looked down at his duffel bag, grimacing a little bit just from the effort of dragging it along. He didn't try to explain himself, or elaborate further. Maybe it was an actual question, or maybe he was just being bitter. But regardless, the question caused Honey Lemon to feel not only sorrowful, but slightly offended. Did Hiro really not think that they considered themselves his friends? Seriously? After everything that they had done so far?

They walked in silence for a few minutes. Hiro's room wasn't as far as it _could_have been, but with this huge place, it was quite a walk to get to. Thankfully, it was next to two other spare bedrooms, where Honey Lemon and Wasabi were staying. Gogo was staying somewhere in the opposite hall, closer to the door of the mansion for safe-keeping. And until this was all over, they had made a pact to reside in their respective rooms. But bleakly, Honey Lemon was starting to wonder how long that would really be. It had to last longer than winter break; they had known that coming in. It was left to be seen what they would do with Hiro once they had to go back to school. But how long would it go on for? Months? Would Hiro really be wearing shorts by the time this was all over and done with?

She told herself that it was fine— that whatever had to be done would be done.

"Here it is!" She couldn't stave off a rush of relief at the fact that they had reached their destination. It had been just a few minutes – maybe a little bit more than five at the most – but it had been tensed and filled with a certain kind of apprehension. It was chafing and uncomfortable, so the mere sight of the door was a little bit of alleviation. She hurriedly rushed ahead, grabbing the door and holding it open with a broad smile. "This is your room!" She turned and gestured a little bit down the hall, where there were two more doors, each one directly across from the other. "And there's where Wasabi and I are staying too, so if you need anything….you know." She offered a shrug of her shoulders to fill the gap in her speech.

"Great." Hiro's voice lacked any enthusiasm as he started inside. Though he stopped over the threshold as he looked back with a scowl, already sensing the fact that Baymax had once again started to scurry after him. And immediately his expression darkened as he let out an angered huff.

Honey Lemon spoke up before he could, her voice slightly awkward. "Hiro…he's gotta come in with you."

Hiro turned and looked at her, looking just as furious, if not even more so. "Why?" His voice was slightly higher than normal, the boy seeming almost pained as he looked back at the thing. He closed his eyes in a small grimace and shook his head. "I don't _want_him to follow me around everywhere. Why does he have to? Isn't it enough that I'm in this stupid place already? It's not like I'm going to—"

Honey remained adamant. "He's got to stay with you, Hiro."

He opened his eyes and held the girl's gaze, seeming sour. And for a heartbeat they just stared at once another, Hiro glaring up at her hotly, and the girl just remaining slightly remorseful. Baymax surveyed the pair's interaction, but he didn't say anything. The only noise from the robot was the small clinking noise that followed every time that he blinked. Eventually Hiro realized that he couldn't win. The teenager ducked away, grumbling and cursing underneath his breath as he swung around and stomped the rest of the way into the room. Honey Lemon watched as Baymax perked at the movement, turning and following the boy inside closely, as if he refused to let himself get more than three feet away from the child.

The young boy doubled back, wriggling around Baymax and retaining a bit of his anger as he reached back to slam the door shut behind them. It didn't help the situation any, but it did offer him the slightest sense of satisfaction. Though the small smile that wriggled over his face was gone in an instant to be replaced by a much number expression. For a heartbeat or two, Hiro just stayed still, unmoving as he just stared ahead. But then he turned, glancing down at his hand and watching just as blankly as he dropped his suitcase, blinking at the dull thud it made upon collision with the ground.

It took him a moment to turn around fully. It was if he hoped that if he did not look back, things might go back to normal. He might not actually be here and everything that just happened might not be real. But standing still, he realized soon after that wishing it away would do absolutely nothing. He stepped away from the door and twisted, looking for the first time at the place that, apparently, he was going to be staying in for the time being. And, with a sinking feeling in his stomach, he started to walk forward, looking slowly from wall to wall.

It was, predictably, just as lavish as the rest of the house looked. In the center of the far wall, stretching out to him, was a bed that looked like it could fit about five people let alone one. Deep reds and blacks seemed to be the color scheme that they were going for, because it was quite literally everywhere. The blankets and the canopy that hung over it and the walls and the carpeting. There was one window to the left of the bed, inserted over the black bedside table. There was a dresser against one of the walls and a set of drawers as well. There was a television and a plush chair seated in front of it, along with a coffee table.

The entire room had to be at the very least six times bigger than his one back at home. It was way too much space. And it didn't seem to quit either. There were two more doors, each on opposite walls. One opened up to a huge walk-in closet, and the other led into a bathroom that seemed so fancy at first glance that Hiro immediately shut the door instead of peering inside. The teenager shut it with a click, looking worn as he turned and looked over the area in front of him. He reached up and pulled a hand through his hair slowly once more, closing his eyes in an exhausted kind of cringe. His knees were shaking just from the effort of holding himself up, and the boy felt like he was going to fall over on the spot.

Stumbling almost, he turned and made for the bed, turning and falling back onto it in a heap. He curled his knees up to his chest and ducked his head down, covering his head with his arms as he went into something of a fetal position. His head hurt, and his stomach felt like it was going to force its way up through his throat. He let out a small groan, wishing that the ground would just open up and swallow him down. Was it too much to ask? For some peace and quiet? Out of everything, this was the last thing he wanted.

No— that was wrong. The last thing he wanted was…

"Hello, Hiro." Hiro immediately scowled, and the child refused to look up from his knees. But, peeking out from his reclusive stance, the boy could see that Baymax had walked forward a few paces into the room. The robot's voice was warm as he called out a greeting, as if he already had known Hiro and they were close friends. Seeming unbothered by the boy's lack of response to his call, the robot went on smoothly. "I have been designated to become your prime caregiver while you stay and recover here. I am well-versed on your condition and the symptoms that are associated with the mind of someone who has lost a close loved one. And I am fully prepared to help you recover in a way that will not only—"

Hiro shot up with this, his hands clenching in front of him and wrinkling the comforter he was laying on. Almost accusingly, he reached up and jabbed his index finger forward to point at the robot. "No!" Baymax stilled at the sudden shout, looking down at himself as if searching for some kind of issue or problem. But Hiro's expression only hardened, and he realized that his eyes were starting to prick and burn at the sight of him. Of what…Tadashi had worked so hard to make. He remembered how happy and enthused Tadashi had been to just show him off to Hiro when he had taken him back to his school. And he remembered how pleased Tadashi had been when Hiro had shown the slightest interest. The boy's chest ached and constricted.

Now look at where they were.

"No!" Hiro repeated his harsh shout, and he turned to jab his finger over to the corner instead. "Listen to me. You stay over _there_. Do you _understand_?" He was talking to the robot as if it was a dog, but the boy couldn't even bring himself to care or mind himself in the slightest. "You stay in _that_corner; you're not allowed to stand anywhere else. You stay over there and you _don't_move. You got that?"

Baymax just blinked again. "You are showing multiple signs of aggression," he noticed, his voice just as steady as it had been before. Nothing at all seemed to faze him— Hiro guessed that that had been one of the featured aspects of his design. After all, any human could function as a nurse; a robot was able to add that sense of unwavering capability to the mix. "I have been given orders to remind you that as your caretaker, if you do not allow my help, then—"

"You are _not_my caretaker," the boy almost snarled.

Baymax tilted his head to the side. "You are handling quite a few emotions at once. This can cause mental strain, as well as stress and, in your case, anger." He blinked slowly once again, Hiro scowling at the quickly-annoying whirring noise that followed the motion. "However, this is common for someone struggling to cope with the death of a loved one. Some treatments for such include but are not limited to: calm relaxation, a fixed schedule to follow, constant companionship of friends, as well as physical reassurance." With this, he started forward for yet another time, trying to step closer to the boy as if to offer that very thing.

But immediately Hiro bristled. "No— no, I don't need any of that. Get _back_in the corner!" It was like he was shooing away a naughty kid that refused to be in time-out or something.

Baymax turned, looking back over to the corner and blinking for the millionth time. He turned and, after a moment, obeyed. His steps were light and bouncy as he followed orders, and once he inched into the corner, the robot turned around so that he could still keep watch over Hiro. He didn't try to say anything more— he just stared over at the boy silently. Hiro glared his way hotly, wishing he could do nothing more than wrench open that window and kick the robot out— literally.

But instead the boy turned over on his side, putting his back to Baymax and curling up once again, covering his head like he had before. His eyelids felt like they weighed a million tons, and even though he had been trying to avoid sleep recently as if it were the plague, he knew that he didn't have a chance when it came to staving it off this time around. He was out like a light, and for once he almost preferred it that way.

(•-•)(•-•)(•-•)(•-•)(•-•)(•-•)(•-•)(•-•)(•-•)(•-•)(•-•)(•-•)(•-•)(•-•)(•-•)(•-•)(•-•)(•-•)(•-•)

"He's not coming." Honey Lemon had said what everyone was thinking, her voice hollowed out and almost tired. She looked down at her food— although what was on the plate looked more than appetizing, she hadn't touched any of it at all. Her stomach felt like it had a bucket full of butterflies trapped in its pit, and she couldn't help but turn and look back over at the hallway that led into the dining room routinely, waiting for Hiro to walk inside. But she came up disappointed.

She frowned, looking back down at her plate.

From where she sat across from the blonde, Gogo gave a small huff. She had slouched back into her chair, a slightly perturbed look over her face as she twirled her noodles around her fork absent-mindedly. She glanced up, seeming to hold back yet another sigh. "I guess you can't blame him," she said with a small shrug. "I mean…he probably won't be down. Not tonight. We should have expected this, if we're being honest."

Fred hummed a small agreement. "Yeah. Maybe…you know, maybe by tomorrow he'll warm up a little bit. Maybe he'll be down here for breakfast or something." Though it was clear that the boy was more skin and bones than he was anything else; he wasn't sure whether or not Hiro would be on board when it came to eating meals. "Or if he isn't out of the room by then, we should try and knock on the door or something."

"You don't think we should do it now?" Wasabi asked. The teenager looked so on-edge that Fred almost wondered whether or not he was poised to leap up from the table at this very moment. He hadn't touched his food either— the entire group was high-strung, and, of course, why wouldn't they be? They were smack dab in the middle of a huge mess, really. "Maybe if we get him down here it'll help him loosen up a little bit more, you know?"

Gogo scoffed. "Yeah, or it'll just make him hate us even more. Believe me, Wasabi, after telling someone that they're _stuck_here and they literally have no other option other than staying inside this place being followed around by a nurse robot every hour of every day, it's only natural that they _don't_want to spend the evening laughing over dinner." She looked back down at her plate dryly, raising her eyebrows in a sarcastic manner as she stabbed at her food.

Wasabi met her annoyed look with his own. "What if he's…I don't know, what if he _does_something?"

Honey Lemon shrugged. "I mean, Baymax is with him I guess." She looked up at Gogo a little earnestly. "You told him to scan Hiro every hour, right?" Gogo nodded. "And you told him that he's supposed to react to any kind of shift in…anything, right?" Another nod. "And he knows that he's only responsible for Hiro, right? Like if he hears something else, he knows he's not supposed to—"

"Honey Lemon, I spent three straight hours_alone_ covering every basis with him." Gogo's voice was dry and coarse as she said this. It was obvious that she was just as strung-out as the rest, though she wasn't as keen to show it in such an obvious way as the others more. It was more like she was just angrier, if such a thing was even possible. "I think he's got everything straight, as long as Tadashi programmed some 'common sense' into the thing."

A bout of silence followed her words. Honey Lemon looked down, frowning as she nudged her noodles around the plate for a bit longer. Nobody else spoke up, they just looked back down at their respective placings. The air was heavy with tension, and it crackled in between them like lightning. The blonde girl broke the quiet after a moment, though her voice was barely audible, only coming out as a small whisper. "…What if we're not doing the right thing?" Nobody replied at first, and she blinked, looking up with sorrowful expression. "What if this is a mistake?"

Wasabi shook his head. "Then it's a little late."

Fred mimicked the movement. "It's too late to try and go back now. At least not without trying to make things work a little bit more."

Gogo didn't say anything. She just shoed her noodles around the plate a little bit more.

But it didn't stop Honey from grimacing and shaking her head. "That doesn't make this right though." Nobody said anything to her— they didn't object to her words; they didn't agree with her either. They just didn't say anything. Repeating her movement, Honey Lemon shook her head, a wave of guilt clogging up her throat as she turned back down. Stabbing at her plate, she bit down on her lower lip. "That doesn't make any of this right."

Gogo looked up at her, almost challengingly. "Does it make it _wrong_?"

Honey Lemon fell a bit short with this. She opened her mouth halfway, reaching for something she could say. But she couldn't figure out anything that would suffice. And after a moment, she couldn't even hold Gogo's stare anymore before she was forced to look away.

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He didn't know where he was at first. He didn't know _anything_really. He had no idea what time it was or what part of the bed he had ended up in, and for a second he felt like a person who was blind and deaf; he couldn't tell up from down. He had snapped awake, his eyes flying open as his chest constricted tightly in a sense of panic. He heard his own shout ringing out from his mouth— but what he yelled out, he couldn't tell. He didn't know what he was scared of. He didn't know what caused his mouth to run dry and his pupils to dilate. He just knew that, for a moment or two, his panic was all that he could experience. It was as if he was drowning in it.

His body was wracked in a spasm as he literally jerked awake, and he could feel a harsh grasp scraping against his throat. The room was dark— he could hardly see a single inch in front of his nose with the drapes being tugged tightly over the windows. His breath came in a pattern of hyperventilation as he was left to scramble together his mind, and briefly, he was completely confused. Where was he? This wasn't…his room never got this dark! The bed— something was wrong with the bed, it was too big. Where was he? Where was his blanket? Why wasn't he covered up?

He blinked rapidly, becoming aware of the faintest hint of a glow off to the side. But just as he was about to turn over and look in that direction, the boy jumped out of his skin at the sound of a voice. A robotic voice. "You were having a nightmare." Hiro whirled around, heat rushing through him as he whipped back to see that Baymax was at the edge of the bed, hovering over him like a hawk. Hiro just managed to hold back yet another shout as surprise choked his throat in a harsh vice. Baymax blinked, in that stupid, long and drawn-out way he always did. And, ignoring the way that Hiro's expression clouded over in anger, he continued just as soothingly. "Would you like to talk about your dream? Perhaps getting it out could help to alleviate your stress."

"No— what? Get away from me!" Hiro snapped, gritting his teeth.

Baymax tilted his head to the side. "Keeping things inside will not help your emotional anguish."

"It's not— you don't even—"

"Would you like me to listen to your dream? I could offer you condolences." Before Hiro could reply, Baymax just kept going on. "Your Gamma-Amino Butyric acid levels are low. Which means that you are experiencing high levels of anxiety. I could play you some soothing music, if you would like some help in going back to sleep. Or perhaps some lukewarm milk would assist you a bit more."

Hiro was starting to get a hold on his breathing pattern again. The boy's eyes were quickly narrowing, and his breathing got harder as he pushed himself up slightly. He looked furious, and as he growled in the back of his throat, the boy glared daggers up at the robot. A sense of strong, biting, almost surprising kind of hatred rose up like bile in his throat, and it barbed his tone as he found himself almost spitting out his words. "I _said_to _stay in that corner_!" Baymax tilted his head to the side, as if he was dog that was trying to sort through some odd kind of command. "Get away from me! I _told_ you to stay away! I don't want you near me!"

Baymax seemed unaffected. "It is common for people in your state to try and push others away. But it is not a healthy alternative to contact."

Hiro growled, ducking his head down and running his hands through his hair. "Baymax, get _back_in your corner. _Now_."

Baymax blinked, and Hiro swallowed back yet another burst of frustration. "Are you sure? You do not want any sort of reassurance? Your anxiety levels have not settled back down to normal yet. And, judging by your exhaustion, you have not had a good night's sleep in quite some time. If you do not—"

Hiro turned away, shuffling over to put his back to the robot. "_Baymax_!" What was it? What had it been? The little…the little thing that he was supposed to say to get him to leave? It hurt to even think about, though— his heart tore and his chest ripped at the thought of the last time he had been with Baymax, Tadashi standing over him with that pleased smile that he had worn. But he landed on the words after a moment or two, and, in a harsh snap, he turned and glared back at the robot. "I am satisfied with my care!"

He thought that that would be enough. That the robot would immediately double back and head to his charging station, which had to be somewhere in the room, right? But to his shock and utter frustration, Baymax remained where he was. And – shocker – he gave a small blink. "I apologize, Hiro." Though his voice was anything but remorseful. It was just the same as it always was. "My orders have been changed. I can only deactivate if any of the others in this house tell me that they are satisfied with their care." He blinked again, hyperaware as Hiro's face immediately crumbled over. "My orders have been not to deactivate upon your wish. Only theirs." He seemed to realize what this meant, for he hurriedly replied: "I apologize."

The boy's shoulders shook slightly. His eyes rounded out, and his mouth went completely dry as he swallowed, feeling as though was trying to choke down a burr. He opened his mouth, trying to find something to say. But, to his shock, he could get nothing out. His lower lip began to tremble violently, and the boy shut his eyes tightly, locking his jaw backwards and ducking down as he shook his head. He reached up and pressed the heels of his hands hard into his forehead, his stomach clenching and seizing once again. The room spun and he felt like he was going to be sick.

There wasn't a lot going through his mind at the moment. He could only think of one real thing.

_I'm trapped. I'm trapped here._ _There's no way out._

Baymax shuffled forward, Hiro snapping to attention at once as the robot began to get a little closer. He reached out with both arms, as if to stretch forward and wrap the boy in a hug. "It is alright to cry," he soothed immediately, no doubt sensing the boy's spike in emotion. "Crying is the body's natural reaction to pain."

Hiro threw his arms out as well, though his movement was much more violent. The boy growled, gritting his teeth and throwing himself forward to shove the robot away before he could get any closer. His hands sunk into the robot's soft body, and immediately Hiro's eyes welled over as Tadashi's words rang out in the back of his mind. _'I was going for a soft, huggable kind of thing.'_It just made Hiro spark all the more, and quickly, he threw himself into the final push, watching as Baymax immediately shuffled backwards. The robot fell backwards over himself as he was tipped off-balance. And for a moment, he just laid there on his back, seeming uncertain, as if he had never been in a situation where he had fallen over before.

Hiro glowered darkly down at him, only able to see the robot thanks to the small glow that was being emitted from his chest. Baymax blinked, just staring up at him a little blankly. He still didn't move, and Hiro was starting to assume that he never would. Hiro shut his eyes tightly, feeling his throat close in on itself as he shook his head, turning away from the robot as if he was unable to even look at him. And, really, he wasn't. He drew his knees up to his chest and ducked his head down, pressing his forehead into the caps of his knees. "Just go back to your corner," he all but pleaded. He dug his fingernails into his skull, giving out a shaking sigh. "Leave me alone; please."

That was the only thing in the world that he could want at the moment: he wanted be alone. Why wasn't anybody giving him that _one_ thing? He was going crazy with the sheer need of isolation— he was going to go out of his mind if he was really going to be forced to remain in this kind of situation. He wouldn't be able to last at all. He dug his fingernails into his head a little deeper, grimacing with the effort and that pain that was inflicted in effect, but gritting his teeth against it regardless. What did it matter anymore? He was already stuck here in a place he didn't want to be in, and he was already completely trapped in more ways than one. What was the point anymore?

The boy's shoulders began to shake, and tears stung the sides of his face as they streamed down his cheeks. He was almost too preoccupied with the tightness in his chest to hear Baymax's voice rise up softly from the ground. He still hadn't gotten up yet. But as the robot spoke, Hiro jerked backwards, blinking as he looked up ever so slightly from the confines of his hands. Baymax's voice was as gentle as ever, and his words were obviously well-intended as he looked at the boy tenderly from the ground. "It is alright," he soothed, Hiro hiccupping in a small gasp of air as he turned just slightly. "It was only a dream. You will be okay. You shouldn't worry."

Hiro wasn't able to react for a moment. But then, slowly, as the soft words hung in the dark between them, the young boy's face crumbled over even more. He turned, lowering himself onto the bed again as he twisted to the side and curled away. He brought his arms up to cover his head and screwed his eyes shut, his throat feeling as though he had swallowed a white-hot iron as he struggled to keep his gasps unnoticeable to the robot below.

If Baymax noticed the boy's turmoil – which there was no doubt that he did – the robot gave no heed. He just blinked slowly, the small clicking noise seeming amplified in the dark silence. He stared straight ahead, up at the celling, as if lost in thought. It was clear that the assumption couldn't be farther from the truth. Yet Hiro couldn't bring himself to care in the slightest at the moment. The boy could only choke back hollowed-out sobs, bringing one of his arms back and pressing it against his mouth to stifle any excess noise, despite the pain that the movement caused.

He wanted nothing more than to crawl out of this bed and into Tadashi's, like he always had done whenever he had a nightmare. Then he had always been allowed a sense of assurance, a feeling that everything, no matter how dark it seemed at the moment, would turn out okay in the end. But he was alone now— he knew that. He couldn't crawl into Tadashi's comfort, and he couldn't seek any kind of assurance from his older brother. He was completely alone in a bed that was six times too big, in a room that was way too dark, in a house that was far too spacious. He couldn't leave, he couldn't try and run away, and he couldn't get out of eyesight from the thing that almost served as a walking reminder of the brother that he had lost.

He couldn't do anything. He felt completely helpless.

So he just ducked his head down and cried, aching for a million things, but knowing that he could not be given a single one.


	14. Chapter 14

A/N: Thank you for your feedback! It means so much to me! :)

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Resurfacing into consciousness was slow— almost painstaking. The first thing Hiro became aware of was the dull, throbbing pain seated directly behind his eyelids. As he grimaced away from the stomach-turning pain, he gradually grasped and put together the rest of the puzzle. He could feel the too-soft plush of a blanket underneath him. He was aware of faint noises of movement and activity from somewhere in the house.

He was curled up on his side, but not nearly as tightly as he had been when he was falling asleep. Though they had stopped by the time he had lost consciousness, Hiro's face was streaked over and sticky with tears that he hadn't wiped away. His throat felt hollowed-out and dry, and prying open his eyes was an exhausting effort despite the fact that he was just waking up. Eventually he managed the feat and, albeit reluctantly, Hiro pushed himself up into a sitting position.

At first he just stared straight ahead. He had fallen asleep shortly after he had come into the bedroom. Though he wasn't sure on the time of night he had jerked out of his dream, Hiro knew that he had slept for far too long. He had probably gotten more hours of sleep last night than he had the entire week put together. Despite the fact, his eyes burned and still threatened to close in on themselves. He gave a loud yawn as he forced his foggy mind to gather itself back together. His eyes roved dully, but before he could turn and look over the dimly-lit room, he landed on something else instead.

It must have fallen off while he was sleeping. Tadashi's hat was strewn a little ways off on the bed, probably about a foot away if not more. The thing was slightly creased and crumpled. Normally Hiro would handle the thing with the utmost care; if it was ever put down off of his head, the boy made sure that it was perfectly arranged so that it would appear untouched. In comparison to that, the hat looked like a complete mess.

The sight was enough to sharpen Hiro back into full awareness. He jerked forward, his arms flying out as he hurriedly snatched up the hat. With rapid movements, the young boy smoothed over the cap, his face flushing with anxiety. His hands were trembling as he tugged at the felt, a certain kind of heat flooding through him as he came to a small fold that took more than a split second to correct. His breathing picked up ever so slightly, as if he was in the middle of a harsh sprint. But eventually, to his sheer relief, the young boy managed to right the hat back to its original condition.

Once Hiro was finished, he let out a shivering breath that he hadn't realized he had been holding back. His shoulders sagged, and he leaned back with a small grimace. The boy's thumbs stroked lightly over the hat's brim; his gaze was heavy and weighted down in sorrow. He turned the hat over in his hands, surveying every inch. It was perfectly fine again. The smudges of imperfection were gone entirely. It was in the same condition as it was when Tadashi had worn it to the Showcase. But the child couldn't stop his hands from moving, turning the thing over and over in his grip. He couldn't stop his eyes from scanning every inch of the cap. He couldn't stop the rising bubble of panic that was building in the back of his throat.

For a long moment that was all there was. Just looking over the hat as unnecessary dread prickled underneath his skin. He didn't know how much time passed or how long it was before the silence was broken. But eventually it was, and Hiro's whole body went rigid as his head snapped up. "Good morning, Hiro." The boy didn't move at first. He just stared straight ahead. But his lack of response didn't seem to faze the voice as it just persisted on. "You have slept for nineteen hours. During the course of the night however, you woke up a total of twenty-four times. Most of which you were incoherent. Do you feel rested after your sleep, Hiro?"

Hiro didn't reply. He just turned and looked over his shoulder. Baymax had gotten off of the floor apparently, because he was currently hovering directly at the boy's bedside. Even as Hiro jerked, flinching backwards a little bit, Baymax still remained cool and collected on the outside. He blinked slowly and tilted his head to the side, repeating his question with a patient sort of lilt to his voice. "Do you feel rested after your sleep, Hiro?"

"I'm not…it's—" He took a moment to gather himself, huffing out a little bad-temperedly from his nose. He shook his head and wished that it would clear faster. Despite how much sleep he had gotten, his mind was still hazed over. "Nineteen…nine— how long— what time is it?"

"It is approximately 7:13 in the morning."

Silence congested itself in between them. Hiro let out another sigh, grimacing as he reached up to put Tadashi's hat on. He tucked it down as far as it would go, almost hiding underneath its cover. He made a move to get up— he was starting to think that maybe it would be better to lay down on the couch. Maybe then he wouldn't feel as…small? It wasn't the right word, he knew that. But it was all he could manage at the moment. But when he started to wriggle off of his perch towards the floor, he suddenly stopped short, freezing mid-lean.

Baymax immediately reacted to the boy's change. He took a step forward, about to say something else. But Hiro wasn't anywhere close to paying attention. The boy doubled over, his arms going down to hold his stomach as he turned and half-jumped, half-fell down to the ground. He stumbled repeatedly, unable to keep himself from tripping as he rushed for the bathroom. Heat flooded over every inch of him, and his movements held a sense of panic as he scrabbled at the doorknob. He heard Baymax turn and shuffle quickly after him, but the boy wasn't able to truly focus on anything other than the fact that his stomach was currently spasming and twisting in on itself.

He wrenched the door open and no sooner did he fall to the floor and hunch over the toilet, did his stomach force itself up. He closed his eyes tightly, his throat lighting on fire at once. There was nothing at all in his stomach— he couldn't remember the last time he had eaten something. But he was retching regardless. The young boy heaved and jerked, pain creased over his features as he dug his nails into his knees to try and distract himself from the agony. Baymax's eyes were trained intently on the boy, and as Hiro choked and gagged, he wriggled into the bathroom, walking over and leaning down.

Baymax's hand rose, and it emitted a soft, blue light. As he reached over and placed it gently on Hiro's back, the boy became aware of a cold, chilled feeling centering itself there. It offered the smallest sense of relief, but it did not help much at all. Hiro was unable to stop the waves of sickness that rammed into him, and the teenager was quickly being covered in a hot sheen of sweat. Ages seemed to stretch on— it felt like hours before he stopped, but really it couldn't have been more than a minute at the most.

When the sickness finally subsided, Hiro was left shaking and swamped. He sat backwards limply, leaning against the bathtub as he curled his knees up to his chest. He rested his head down and took in slow, shivering gasps. Baymax was not deterred, only turning and resting his hand on Hiro's neck instead. The cold feeling helped to curb his stomach, and at first, Hiro was almost grateful for the touch. But quickly, he came back to himself.

The teenager fell to the side, reaching up and swatting the robot's arm away with a scowl. "I _told _you: don't _touch _me," he all but snarled. He pressed his back flush against the tub, trying to get a sense of chill from that instead. He grimaced and reached up to press a trembling hand against his temple. His mouth tasted awful; the tang alone nearly made him seize forward again. The only reason that he didn't was probably because he just didn't have anything left to force out. All he was left with after the episode was a throbbing head and a nauseated feeling.

If anything at all could be said about Baymax, it would be said about his inability to take a hint. "I must take care of you. You are my patient." With that, he started to lean forward again, reaching out as if Hiro's last outburst hadn't happened at all.

He bristled. Smacked the hand away a second time. "Get _off_!"

Again, it went right over his head. "You should not eat for at least two hours. You must give your stomach the chance to recover so that you will not become prone to vomiting a second time." Hiro growled in the back of his throat, scowling down at the ground. "But after you recover, you should try and drink clear liquids such as: water, ginger ale, broth, or low-caffeinated soda. These will help you return to equilibrium easier. But for now you are advised to lay down and try to relax."

Hiro groaned. He shifted and pushed himself up to stand, his knees a little weak as he stumbled. He felt awful, in way more ways than just one. His arms folded in to wrap loosely around his waist, as if he was holding himself together. And, staggering, he tried his best to barge past Baymax. But he was too weak at the moment, and the robot just blinked, looking down at him calmly. Hiro's gaze hardened, and he shot the robot a look filled with daggers. "Get out of the way," he snapped tartly.

Baymax tilted his head to the side. He seemed almost…confused. Which was stupid to think, Hiro immediately admonished himself. He was robot; he didn't have any feelings. Hiro was just relieved when Baymax stepped aside. The boy immediately shouldered past him, his strides a little shorter than they normally were. He purposefully bypassed the bed and collapsed in a heap on the couch. He pulled his knees up to his chest, feeling like he was being tossed around by rocking waves.

For a while, he was able to bask in a relieving sort of silence. It made it harder not to focus on the pain twisting in his gut and writhing through his mind, but at least it was void of any talking. That is, until it was grievously broken yet again. "Hiro?" The boy grimaced, the boy ducking his head down even further. Baymax had trailed dutifully after the young child, and now he hovered at his side like a puppy. Again. But the robot's next words immediately trumped the boy's rising frustration. It replaced it with something much colder. "Is your hat alright?"

At first he didn't react. After a moment, he turned just slightly to look at Baymax from the corner of his eyes, not even turning his head. "What?" His voice was like ice. It was brittle and freezing, laced with hostility that was almost tangible.

"Your cortisol levels rose dramatically when you saw the state that your hat was in upon awakening. Even now, your stress hormones are significantly more active than normal."

"So?"

Baymax blinked. Yet another moment of silence stretched until it was sliced apart for what felt like the millionth time. "It is a source of stress for you. I am here to ensure that you are able to recover— not only physically but mentally as well. It is my job to keep you as stable and content as possible." When Hiro didn't respond, he just went farther. "Is it because of Tadashi, Hiro?" The boy went absolutely rigid. Baymax noticed this right away. "You seem to experience quite a lot of anxiety and apprehension when your brother is mentioned. This is quite common, but you should—"

"Get in the corner." Hiro's voice was taut and clipped. He didn't look back up from his knees.

"Hiro, perhaps if you—"

The boy pushed himself up, too quickly as his stomach twisted. He choked back the ill feeling that swamped through him. The boy instead focused instead on the swamp of anger that slammed into him like a punch. His arm shot forward, the boy jabbing a finger almost accusingly to the other side of the room. "Get _away_! Stay _over there_! Stay over there and _stop _talking!" he screeched.

Baymax fell silent. He turned slowly, looking from Hiro to where the boy was pointing. For a moment he hesitated, and Hiro's throat swelled as he wondered whether or not the robot would try and object to the order again. But eventually he turned and obeyed. He shuffled back and wormed himself into the corner. He did not try to say anything more. He just turned so that he could still remain in the corner but also keep a close eye on Hiro at the same time.

Hiro's breathing was a little ragged. His jaw was locked backwards and his eyes were smoldering with that same look of odd hatred. When he spoke next, still jabbing a finger over to the corner, his voice was nothing more than a low growl. "And _don't _talk about him. Don't you _ever _talk about him! Do you understand!?" He bit down on his lower lip and shook his head, already turning and retreating back into his curled-up state. He reached up and covered his head with his arms, resembling a turtle who was shying away into its shell. "…Just stop…"

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"Hiro?" Baymax spoke up, looking over at the boy on the couch who still hadn't moved.

No reply.

"Hiro, it has been exactly two hours and thirteen minutes since you had gotten sick. You should consider taking in fluids."

Nothing.

Baymax turned. He disappeared into the bathroom, and after a few minutes, he reappeared with a glass of water in his hands. He waddled over to the couch and stopped over Hiro. The boy was a small ball curled among the pillows. He almost blended in. "Hiro, please drink this." It was more of a plea or a request than a demand. Or maybe Baymax was just too far functioned to suddenly start bossing him around. Hiro did not look up again and he spoke again, extending his arms slightly to hold the glass a little closer to him. "Hiro. You are very dehydrated. Drinking water will help you."

Nothing.

"It will make you feel better."

Still. Nothing.

Vitals were fine. The boy was stable. He was just mute.

"Hiro? …Hiro?"

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There was a small knock at the door around noon. Hours and hours of silence and inactivity had proceeded the interruption, and though Hiro was not roused, Baymax turned at once. He did not hesitate before starting over to the door. And when Hiro did not make a move to object or even look up from his knees, Baymax reached out and opened it. He blinked as recognition registered. Across the threshold stood the four friends that had started all of this in the first place.

Honey Lemon had been the one to knock, and when she looked into the room, her eyes were heavy and alarmed. "Baymax? Is everything okay?"

The robot knew the time— it had been five hours since Hiro had woken up. And the boy had hardly moved since then. "Hiro slept for nineteen hours, though he had woken up twenty-four times during the night. He awoke at 7:13 this morning and proceeded to get sick. I informed him that consuming anything would be unwise until two hours after his episode. Yet since then when I have attempted to give him water, he has refused to speak or move." He blinked, shuffling to the side and looking over to where the boy was on the couch. He had moved now, Baymax realized. But only so that his back was to the door and the others. "His vitals are stable, but he is severely malnourished and dehydrated."

Fred grimaced tiredly, reaching up to wipe at his face. "Hiro…" His voice was hardly a sigh.

Honey Lemon looked just as pained. "Hiro, this isn't going to help make you better. It'll only make you worse…"

Gogo's stare was harsher than anyone else's. Her eyes were narrowed, and her jaw was set backwards in a hint of anger. Her arms were crossed tightly over her chest, and the girl looked as though she was just barely holding herself back from speaking. Wasabi was much more controlled, and he was the first to take a step forward so that he could enter the room. "Hiro, buddy, we came in to talk to you. Okay? Can you…I don't know, can you turn around or something?"

The boy didn't budge. Gogo jerked forwards a little bit, opening her mouth as if to give out a snap. Honey Lemon's arm flew out at her side, and the blonde was quick to restrain her friend. The shorter of the two girls leaned back into her hips, her stare hot as she just watched the scene unfold instead. But Hiro was as unmoving as stone. Honey Lemon cleared her throat and, her arm dropping down at her side, she too followed Wasabi's lead and edged inside. "Hiro? Hiro…we've made a decision we thought you might want to hear."

Hiro still didn't react.

Fred spoke up from the entrance. "We decided that we're not gonna celebrate Christmas yet!"

With how chipper he tried to make himself sound, Hiro's lack of response was even more accentuated.

Honey Lemon was wringing her hands together in front of her. But she followed suit with Fred and attempted to make her voice a shade brighter as she tried to speak up as well. "Christmas is tomorrow, and…well, at first we thought it would be okay to have it like normal. But…we've been thinking. And we've decided that we're going to have it later. So that…I mean, maybe by then we'll be able to enjoy it more." You'll _be able to enjoy it more. _That was what she really wanted to say, but she knew that it wouldn't be a good idea. Biting down on her lower lip, she hedged on carefully. "Don't you think that's a good idea?"

Gogo bristled at the silence that continued to meet them. "Hiro, this will be a lot easier on everyone if you just _try _a little bit more." The boy didn't even twitch and she held back a huff. Honey Lemon eyed her friend warningly, and the blonde felt a small twitch of relief at the fact that her friend adjusted to keep her voice a little bit gentler. "We all know that this situation isn't the best to be in, and we're sorry for putting you through it without any warning, right? But this is the way it has to be. Unless you want to be shipped off somewhere else."

Honey Lemon decided to try again. Her voice held the smallest trace of fear as she spoke though, as if she was frightful of making Hiro even worse. "Think about Aunt Cass Hiro…" The boy didn't reply, but she could have sworn that he curled up a little bit tighter. Encouraged by the phantom hint of reaction, she went on. "She was a wreck, Hiro. You really upset her and put her through a lot. Don't you care about that?" She paused, contemplating. "She's waiting for you to get better. She's hoping that it won't last long. Think about all that's happened— don't you owe it to her to try and get back to your old self?"

The words were met with nothing besides the stifling silence of the bedroom.

Fred cleared his throat. His voice dropped into a whisper so that Hiro wouldn't overhear. "Guys, let's go. He'll talk and stuff when he's ready, right?"

Wasabi hissed back: "We can't just let him waste away in here though."

Though Honey Lemon seemed uncomfortable, she shook her head. "Baymax is here. That won't happen. And…it _is _just the first day, after all. We can't just…expect him not to be upset. He needs time to think about everything. I think Fred's right; he'll come around when he's ready." She turned and filed out of the room. Wasabi was hesitant, but he did the same. Fred looked at Honey with a grateful smile in return for her support. Everyone seemed on the same page, but as they stepped out, Gogo blew out her cheeks, still seeming ticked off.

They all stepped out and closed the door. However, doubt was still prominent on Wasabi's features. "You sure Baymax can handle this?" he asked. "He doesn't seem to be all that…_enforcing_."

Honey Lemon shook her head again. "He doesn't need to be enforcing. That's not the point. We want Hiro to get better, and he won't if we're yelling at him and forcing him to do stuff. I was up last night reading about situations like these…we need to be careful with this. Hiro won't get better if we just yell at him, and that includes Baymax. If we just bully him he'll just keep this up out of spite."

Gogo huffed. "But we _need _to knock some sense into him!"

Honey Lemon was adament. "He'll come around when he's ready."

The other rolled her eyes. "And when will _that _be?"

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"Hiro? …Hiro, it is currently three in the afternoon. Your body needs nourishment and liquids."

Nothing.

"Staying in the same position for a prolonged amount of time causes stress and tension in the muscles. You should get up and walk around to try and alleviate any pain you could be experiencing."

…

"Hiro, it is wise for someone in your mental state to try and distract yourself. Laying here will not help you. People diagnosed with depression should try and remain active and follow a schedule to keep their attention focused on other things. Staying like this will not allow you to do that."

…

"Hiro, you should drink this glass of water. You are very dehydrated."

…

"Hiro, this behavior is not healthy."

…

"Please drink the water."

…

"Thank you."

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"Hiro, it is time for dinner. The others would like for you to join them."

…

"You need to eat."

…

"Hiro?"

…

"Hiro?"

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_Knock, knock. _"…Hiro?" It was Wasabi. "..Hiro, are you awake?"

…

"Hiro, come on, buddy. You've gotta come out at some point." A long pause. "I know you're upset. And you have every right to be. But you can't just stay in this room forever. You missed dinner, but Fred said that maybe we could make some dessert? Maybe cookies or cake? Would you want to come out and help for that? I'm sure it'd be fun."

…

"Look, just because we're not celebrating Christmas tomorrow, that doesn't mean that it's not sad that you're all alone now. Technically it _is _still Christmas Eve. And…you don't want to be all alone for Christmas Eve, right? Wouldn't you much rather be out having fun with us?"

Hiro shifted just slightly. But he still did not make an audible reply.

There was a long stretch of silence. There was the smallest rising hope that maybe Wasabi had decided to leave and quit trying. But after a moment the other spoke up again; though his voice was much quieter and harder to hear, it still managed to leak through the wood of the door regardless. "Hiro…just because Tadashi is gone now doesn't mean you have to be too."

Footsteps began to fade away, and after a long moment it was assured that Wasabi had left.

Hiro looked up from his knees. Baymax turned at once to look over at him, tearing his gaze away from the door as he blinked rapidly. "Your serotonin levels are very low. In contrast, your levels of stress and thyroid hormones are much higher than they should be."

The boy didn't respond. He just ducked his head down again, his eyes shutting tightly as Baymax registered a sharper-than-normal intake of breath. The young boy's shoulders jerked up in down in a hiccupping kind of pattern; his face tinged red and tears were already streaking down his cheeks. His breathing escalated into hyperventilation, and Baymax immediately went into action as he heard soft sounds of half-concealed sobs. Hurriedly he emerged from his corner, scurrying over to the couch to bend over Hiro's small shape.

"There, there," he soothed gently, softly rubbing the boy's shoulder. Immediately, Hiro jerked his hand away, swatting it aside as he turned and buried his head all over again, all but seething in deep anger and even deeper sorrow. He was quieter now with his gasps, but Baymax was still plainly aware of the boy's state. He pulled his arm back, blinking as he looked from his hand to Hiro, suddenly at a loss of what to do. After a pause he sat down, staring at Hiro intently. "It will be alright, Hiro," he assured regardless of the boy's actions. "Do not worry. Everything will be okay."

Hiro shook his head, but kept it down all the same. He twisted and turned away, his throat on fire as he withheld sobs that, if not stifled, would have been loud enough to be heard from Honey Lemon and Wasabi's rooms down the hall. He pressed his mouth down into the crook of his elbow, ignoring the pain that his arm screeched in as he heaved.

Again, Baymax tried to offer reassurance, but the boy didn't try to listen in the slightest.

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Hiro scrabbled with an air of desperation, his eyes round and stricken as he tugged and pulled. The effort was sapping him of whatever little amount of strength he still had by this point. His face was creased over in effort and pain as he dug his fingernails into the wood; but despite his struggle, it was clear that he was getting absolutely nowhere. The window was glued shut— it had to be, right? It couldn't be _this _stuck! Or at least…it couldn't be _this _hard to open. He locked his jaw backwards and struggled to put his back into it.

"Hiro?" The boy stifled a harsh groan of frustration at Baymax's voice. He didn't turn, though his scowl deepened significantly. The robot was standing back over in his corner, having been shoved and yelled back there for what seemed like the millionth time. But the young boy was acutely aware of the stare that was currently boring a hole through his back. "Are you attempting to get the window open?" The question was asked even though the answer should have been fairly obvious. Hiro had been here going on five minutes tugging and jerking fruitlessly. Baymax tilted his head, and after Hiro didn't speak, he spoke again. "You are making no progress, Hiro. As it is, you are not allowed to leave the house."

Hiro turned slowly, his hands curling into tight fists. When he spoke, his words were nearly spat out through clenched teeth. "What do you mean: I'm. Not. _Allowed_?"

"You cannot leave this home. I have been given very clear instructions. You are not allowed to leave until the others give you permission to do so. As of this moment, they have told me that you are not permitted." Baymax turned and looked over at the window. "That is why the windows are locked from the outside. And that is why I am supposed to make sure that you stay in eyesight at all times." He reiterated himself. "You are not allowed to leave the house."

Hiro let out a loud yell, whipping back around and slamming his fist into the glass. It gave a dull thud— unharmed. He doubled back, scowling as he flew over to his bag, which was still lying where it had been thrown down by the door. He dropped to his knees, leaning over and ripping the zipper to the side as he delved into the luggage. Baymax watched, turning and walking closer as Hiro began to claw through the bag's contents, his eyes both enraged and desperate at the same time.

"Hiro? What are you doing?" Baymax asked. Hiro didn't reply, but his movements carried with them a sense of rushed urgency. He wrenched out shirts carelessly, only focusing on jackets and pants as he stopped just long enough to shove his hand down into their pockets. He rooted through each article that he yanked out, and when he came up with nothing, he growled loudly, seething as he just tossed the clothes away. He was gradually making a mess, but he did not stop long enough to even glance anywhere other than the bottom of his bag. Baymax studied him closely. He bent down. "Hiro?"

"Leave me alone," he growled, tossing the clothes over his shoulder as he scrabbled through the pockets. He turned and shot a glare over at the robot. "Go back to your corner."

Baymax looked from the boy to the jacket he was now holding. It was about the third one since he had started tearing through the duffel. "Hiro, what are you trying to find?" The boy just shook his head, closing his eyes briefly and letting out a hiss. After a moment he let out an angered growl, turning and just tipping over the thing entirely. And once everything was on the floor, he started his search all over again. The robot stood by while Hiro dug through the pile of clothes as if it was dirt. "Hiro, we have made sure that there is nothing left," he informed the boy promptly. "If you are looking for any pills or narcotics, you will not find any."

Hiro slammed a hoodie onto the ground, closing his eyes tightly and letting out a yell as he reached up to dig his fingernails into his temples. Frustration was beginning to literally burn underneath his skin. He wanted to scream his lungs out, he wanted to run away, he wanted to do…he wanted to do _something_. He wanted to do something, and that was exactly what he _couldn't _do. He couldn't do _anything _here. His eyes burned and he sat up straighter, his arms falling limply back down to the ground. His throat burned and he let out a huff that came out much thicker than it was first intended to be.

Baymax remained peppy. "Do not worry, Hiro. It will be alright. Would you like to talk? On a scale of one to ten, how would you rate your mental state of mind at the moment?" Hiro turned, watching despondently as, on Baymax's chest, the series of faces sprung into light. They ranged from a yellow grinning face, to a flinching red one. When he didn't reply, Baymax only repeated his question in a brighter tone of voice. "On a scale of one to ten, how would you rate your mental state of mind at the moment? It is important for you to understand that you can confide in me."

Hiro looked back down and reached over, nudging uselessly at the mess of clothes that was surrounding him in an almost-perfect semicircle. He bit down hard on his lower lip. He shut his eyes, trying to ignore the all-too-familiar burn seated there already. He didn't speak for a moment; when he finally did, his voice was worn and deflated. His shoulders hunched forward, as if he was in pain. He shook his head, reaching up and pressing the heel of his hand into his forehead. "You're so annoying." The words were a small growl. He shook his head and turned, glaring up at the robot in an almost accusing fashion. "You don't even _know _me. At all. Stop acting like we're friends or something." He got up and began to pace, rubbing at his arms painfully as he glanced around the room. Suddenly the cavernous space seemed much too small. It was suffocating.

Baymax was not perturbed by the words. He just took a moment to absorb them before he replied. "I do know about you, Hiro. I know that you are four foot, eleven inches, and that you have a slight allergy to peanuts. You are fourteen years of age, and you currently live with your aunt as your parents passed on when you were very young. Your favorite color is red, and your favorite movie, as of four months ago, is Iron Man." _As on four months…_what_? What was…? _"You are a decent soccer player, you graduated high school at the age of thirteen, you can be antisocial, and you tend to prefer a high-caloric diet with things such as soda or gummy bears."

Hiro opened his mouth, trying to search for something to say. Before he could grasp anything, though, Baymax was sweeping on. "You like to read comic books in your spare time, but not as much as you enjoy building and creating things. You have a much higher level of intelligence than any other child your age. You have been called a 'prodigy' by some, but you do not wish to go to college and further your education. Rather, you prefer to build robots and fight them against other ones." He blinked. "I must admit I do not see the point to the hobby, either."

The way he said this grated Hiro's nerves, and he jerked, tensing. At the same time, though, he could not hold back a flush of anger as he scowled. "Look, just because Gogo or Fred told you a bunch of stuff about me, that doesn't make us friends." He huffed, silently fuming as he continued to walk back and forth, rubbing his arms. His bandages scraped painfully against his stitches with the motions, but he ignored it. It didn't matter— it was a minimal detail. "It just makes you ridiculous and annoying."

"Your safety and well-being is my concern, Hiro."

Hiro gave a laugh. But the way it came out sounded more like a noise of jittering, pent-up anger. His arms went up to run his hands through his hair, and he shook his head again. The way he was walking and the way he held himself, the boy looked half-crazy. His eyes were distant as they flickered around the room for something. He wasn't even sure himself what he was searching for— he just needed _something_. He looked half-crazy. "Your _concern_. It's not your _concern. _It's your _programming._"

He twisted around to look at the robot. His words were rushed, his breathing coming across as minimal gasps as he spoke quickly. "You're a robot— you don't have feelings or thoughts or _concerns_. You have nuts and bolts and a titanium skeleton! You're nothing but— but air and metal! Stop pretending like you care or that you're worried or that you want me to be some kind of friend for you because you're _just _a robot! Do you understand?"

Baymax didn't reply; he just stared at him. But Hiro wasn't scrabbling for a conversation. To be frank, he had no idea_ what_ he was doing. "You're nothing but wires and cables hidden under a huge balloon! You run on charging batteries, you short-circuit when you get overloaded! You're nothing!" He reached up and shoved his hands wildly through his hair yet again. "You're absolutely nothing! You're just a robot, you're just a robot, you're just a robot!"

His words carried with them a sense of unknown gravity. The way he spoke almost made it sound as though he was trying to convince himself of something, though Baymax could not logically guess as to what it was. Weakly now, his face falling, the boy drooped. He resembled a flower that was bending over the weight of raindrops, slouching forward as his shoulders hunched. He closed his eyes and let out a loose sigh, shaking his head. He looked down at the ground. More out of the desire not to see anything else. "I just…" He grimaced and looked down at his hands, curling them and uncurling them repeatedly. "I…I don't remember what I was trying to say." Frustration lit up the boy's eyes. His head was aching— he couldn't grab hold of a single thought for very long before it dissipated in his hands.

Baymax was still standing off to the side, just observing as Hiro skittered back and forth across the room. It was a moment before he said anything. "Confusion and fogginess of mind is a common symptom of withdrawal." Hiro shot him a glare, but once again Baymax seemed to have absolutely no filter whatsoever. Dryly, the young boy suppose that he hadn't been programmed with such a feature. "It is very normal for a person to undergo such effects. Other effects include things such as vomiting, irritability, sickness, an increased sense of anxiety, trouble sleeping, poor concentration, antisocial tendencies, depressed mood—"

"Oh my God can you not shut up for like five seconds?" Hiro asked in a swift exhale.

Baymax tilted his head to the side. "Do not fear, Hiro. You will pull through this. You are very smart— you can do anything you set your mind to."

"Ha." The laugh was scathing— it lacked humor entirely. He turned and shot a harsh look the robot's way. His hands curled into fists at his sides, and he turned over towards the bed, wondering how many times he would wake up during the night if he tried to go to sleep right now. Yet he knew in the back of his mind that the effort would most likely just come up short regardless. He was filled with a jittering sense of impatience— it was what caused his hands to twitch, and his feet to pace. He felt like he couldn't stay still for very long lest he explode, or at the very least break down. He felt like breaking off into a sprint, but at the same time he felt weighted down with lead-like exhaustion. He couldn't discern one feeling before it blended into another.

Regardless of the swarm against his already-aching head, a wry smile passed over his lips, the expression not reaching his eyes. He flopped down on the bed. Though as soon as he touched the comforter, he could feel more pent-up energy swell in his limbs and joints. It wouldn't be very long at all before he was just forced to get up and start pacing around the room all over again. For the moment, as if trying to stifle the feeling, Hiro curled up slightly, tucking his knees to his chest and ducking his chin down. He eyed Baymax with a freezing stare, his smile gone. "That's a laugh."

Baymax stirred. "My words were not intended to inspire humor."

Hiro shook his head. He rolled his eyes and twisted so that his back was to the nursing robot once more. When he replied, his voice was a small rasp, barely able to escape out of his mouth in the first place. "I can't do anything anymore." There was a small gap of silence, in which Hiro anticipated Baymax to interject. He didn't. A smile came over the boy's face but this time the sadness was palpable in the gaze; it conveyed thoughts and feelings he would not be able to communicate even if he was given a lifetime for such a task. "…I couldn't even manage to kill myself right…"

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"Hey, you uh…you know that building's still being held off."

"…What?"

"You know. The uh— the Krei Industry thing? The new installment that they've been working on. It's been months and they're still stalling any more like…production, you know? It's weird."

"And I'm supposed to…care about this?"

"Well, not _care _I guess. Just…something to think about."

"Right."

"It's stimulating conversation."

"Is it?"

"Well, it was intended to be. You're kinda ruining it now, though, so…"

Fred shrugged, dropping the topic as soon as he had picked it up in the first place. Gogo was clearly unimpressed— the girl was watching him with one eyebrow raised, as if to silently ask him whether or not he was certain that he wanted to try this line of dialogue with her. The two were in the kitchen, Fred sitting on a barstool in front of a tall island and Gogo standing across from him. They weren't making anything— there was a separate, much larger and more capable kitchen aside from this one where the cooks and servants would typically prepare meals. This was just mainly for looks— a façade of a place mostly intended to linger around in and chat with friends. Maybe make a cupcake while you did it.

The place was mostly empty. Since it was Christmas, the staff had been dismissed for the day upon Fred's order. Wasabi and Honey Lemon had taken off early this morning to go back to their own homes. Near one or two, they would come back and Gogo would leave for the evening herself. Fred of course didn't need to leave. If he could visit his dad, let alone talk to him, this entire situation wouldn't have manifested.

It was kind of surreal. Usually Christmas was packed to the brim with people in your house, obnoxious music playing deafeningly-loud over speakers. Usually there would be presents and laughing and family and cookies and…well, _Christmas _things. Now there was nothing. The house was silent and there wasn't even a star put on the tree yet. They had decided to stave off festivities until Hiro was better, so that he could enjoy it all just as much as he would have had Tadashi not died. But suddenly the idea just came across as sad. At least, today it did. But that was only typical, probably.

Fred looked down with pursed lips at his hot chocolate. He had barely touched it and by now, there was a circle of steam ridging underneath the mug. It was getting colder by the second, thanks to the freezing temperature that was permeating in from outside. He mostly made this in the first place just to keep his hands warm. As the thought crossed his mind, he leaned over and wrapped his grip around the cup again. He was silent for a few minutes more before he decided to try again at holding a conversation. After all, besides watching twenty-four hour reruns of 'A Christmas Story' on television, what else was there to do?

"You think she'll call sometime today?" he asked, his voice layered with hesitance.

Gogo did manage to perk with this. "Who, Aunt Cass?" Fred nodded, and she shrugged. "I dunno; maybe. Probably." The girl took a step back and leaned down, looking at the rows of cabinets on her side of the island. After a second she pinpointed the one she wanted and opened the small door, reaching inside and wriggling out a small blender. Once she set it on the counter she went and started for the fridge, apparently on her way to make some kind of a smoothie. "You know, there _is _one detail of this entire plan that you overlooked. Frankly, I'm kind of impressed that I can only think of that one at the moment."

Fred straightened. "Wait, what? What do you mean?"

"Second Nature has a website, Fred. And they have e-mail. If Aunt Cass read the fine print of that thing, she'll realize that at some point, she's supposed to get updates on Hiro and how he's doing out there. Doing…I don't know, whatever they do." She paced back to her spot, now hauling a number of fruits and a jug of milk. "She's supposed to be able to send letters too. Granted, they tell you when to do that so maybe she'll just be waiting all this time. But you have to give her more credit than you are. She swallowed everything so easily in the first place because of the situation."

Fred nodded slowly. "And?"

"And? And the longer that Hiro stays here, the longer that Aunt Cass is able to clear her head. The sooner she clears her head, the sooner she realizes the gaps in whatever we're going over here. You know?" She shrugged, turning and loading up the machine. Ice was needed for it too, and she doubled back to get that. "I mean, hopefully that's a worry for a later time. I'm just saying that we're on thin ice here, and it's only going to get thinner from this point out. If we keep going at the rate we're going now, and we don't try and work with Hiro a little bit more, then—"

The girl wasn't able to finish. Before she could, she broke off, her eyes catching on something off to the side. She straightened, and as an odd look settled over her expression, Fred swiveled around in his chair, a trace of apprehension flickering in the back of his gaze. And his slight worries turned up founded as he registered the two standing in one of the entryways of the kitchen. Baymax was the first to catch Fred's gaze— it was kind of hard not to notice the huge robot. The robot blinked warmly and raised up his arm, offering the pair the smallest hint of a wave. "Good morning."

Fred returned the greeting. Gogo mumbled something incoherent.

Attention transferred to the boy that was standing in front of the robot. He looked horrible. He looked sick and nauseous— like he could keel over at any minute. Bags were dark and black underneath his eyes still, despite the fact that he had slept so long the other night. The way he stood made it seem like he was hurt or something, and that he was just trying to stand in a way that would ward off any extra pain. He looked hunched over and awkward. His eyes were raw and biting as he looked straight ahead, and Fred's smile came across pinched as he offered the young boy a grin. "Hey, Hiro!" When Hiro didn't offer a reply, he went on regardless. "Merry Christmas!"

The young boy sighed in the back of his throat. "You said we weren't doing that today."

"Well, we're not, I guess. But that doesn't change the fact that it's still today, right?" Fred asked.

Hiro fell silent.

Baymax took up initiative. "Hiro slept for a total of two hours and nineteen minutes last night. Urges to relax and fall asleep went unheeded. He is slowly adopting prominent signs of withdrawal. He has gotten sick a total of three times, and he has been complaining of a headache since 4:01 this morning. I administered a mild dosage of pain relief, but it seems to be failing to work." He looked down at the boy, but Hiro was scowling off to the side. He refused to look up and meet his gaze. So the robot just looked back at the two. "I have persuaded Hiro to come downstairs and eat. He is very weak and requires nourishment."

"Oh." Fred blinked and looked over at Gogo. The girl was still quiet, just staring at Hiro with a look wiped of emotion. Hurriedly, before Hiro noticed he was being gawked at, Fred stood up from his stool. "Oh— oh yeah! Yeah, we can totally…uh, you want me to cook something? Like...pancakes? Or…I could make cereal." Hiro turned now, his gaze training itself onto the older teenager. And, flustered, Fred started to stumble a little bit over his words. "Do you— how about…you want ice cream?" Hiro blinked slowly. "I can make you ice cream, I've got like…I could find some ice cream." Fred was wide-eyed. "…Gummy Bears?" His voice was a small squeak. "I can get you some man, just give me like an hour."

"Fred," Gogo sighed, reaching up and rubbing her temple with a cringe.

Baymax interjected. "Hiro requires foods that are easy to digest. His stomach is very sensitive." Hiro was silently fuming by now, but he remained the same. He did not try to leave or throw in some barbed comment. Fred wasn't sure whether or not that was a good sign. "Someone with a high chance of illness should only intake bland-based foods. Such as toast, bananas, applesauce, or crackers. These are more likely to decrease the chances of expelling the meal shortly after eating."

Fred blinked. He seemed frazzled, and that was completely unlike him. Nevertheless, he nodded quickly. "Yeah, sure. I can find that. Just…hang on, give me a second." He turned and doubled back. He exited the room, probably booking it off to somewhere specific. The layout of the house was not memorized yet— it wasn't even really all that understood in the first place. Gogo could just look after him and wonder where he was maneuvering.

Once the boy left, silence settled itself back over the room, as well as severe awkwardness. Gogo, her arms still folded over her chest, gave a small sigh and looked down at the blender. It was still filled with fruit and ice and a little bit of milk. The lid was still off to the side. She reached over and plugged it in. Every one of her small movements sounded amplified in the tense atmosphere that was now hanging over them. Hiro was staring off into space, unfocused. Baymax, after a moment of pause, turned and looked down at Hiro to once again focus his attention on his patient.

After a long beat of silence, Gogo finally took a sharp inhale. "So. You're up, then."

At first she wondered whether or not he would even reply. Then: "…I've _been _up."

"Well, yeah, but you've refused to come out of your room up until now." Gogo turned and looked over at Hiro and waited for him to say something. He didn't. She gave a small sigh and looked down, tapping her fingers on the marble counter for a few heartbeats. The girl cleared her throat. "So…did you want to do something, then? I mean, we're not doing the whole Christmas thing today but we could still do…_something_."

"I don't want to do anything."

She nodded slowly. Her tongue stuck out into her cheek. She kept moving her head up and down, and a touch of something distantly akin to anger leaked its way into her features. It was another gap before she tried to speak again. When she did, she could not help but witness her voice sharpen just a little bit. "So this is how it's going to be then? You're not even going to _try _in the _slightest_?" Hiro didn't speak, and she looked over at the boy, her eyes slightly narrowed. The boy's expression was drawn. In seeing her glare, the boy began to scowl himself, which did not help the girl's attitude. She bristled just slightly. "You know we're just trying to help you, Hiro, right?"

The boy gritted his teeth and jerked his head in a shake. "Is that what you call this?" His voice was scratchy and hoarse. "Is that what you call fencing me up? Telling me I can't leave? Having Baymax hover over my shoulder? You said this was all so that I wouldn't go to a hospital! You said this was better! But it's not!" Thanks to how dry it was, his voice scratched and hitched repeatedly. It sounded as if he was trying to talk right after screaming for three hours straight. "This is _so much worse_!" His breathing was hitching, and Baymax edged closer to him, obviously noticing that the boy was slowly losing grip on himself. "I _hate _it here! I don't want to talk and I don't want to stay here! I _hate _this place!"

Gogo, surprisingly, was not fazed. Her voice was steady when she replied. "Because you've obviously been around the house. You totally haven't just stayed in that one room. Refusing to budge."

Hiro's glare was acidic. "I don't have to stand here and listen to you yell at me."

She shrugged. "That's true— you don't. But you know what, you _should_. Because you know what else? Aunt Cass didn't deserve what _you _put her through."

Silence followed those words. Absolute silence. Hiro jerked backwards, like he had just been slapped. Gogo was still composed, and she just met his taken aback stare with her level one. When it was clear that Hiro would not reply, she went on. "I mean, you know that…right? She didn't ask for anything you did to her. And you forced her to take it anyway. You need to realize that. Because until you realize that, you won't be able to get anywhere. You can't make this seem like you're the victim here. Or at least…not the _only _one."

Hiro was unnerved. "I didn't do anything to her," he objected lowly.

"Is that what you think?"

"It's what I _know_."

Gogo scoffed. "Right— I forgot. The young Hiro Hamada: a feat of intelligence that knows absolutely no bounds. You know, Hiro, it's okay not to know everything. But what's _not_ okay is to sit by and _pretend _that you do. Alright? Because you seem to not know what you have done in the slightest. You need to get your head out of the clouds and back onto your shoulders, and that's why you're here. That's why you have Baymax and that's why you can't leave this house. Because you need to face everything. Whether you like it or not."

"There's nothing to face." Hiro remained adamant.

"Then you're even more confused than I thought you were."

Hiro had started to advance. They were much closer now, yet Gogo was still retaining her cool front. "Listen! I didn't do anything to Aunt Cass! She was the one who involved herself! I was doing what I had to do— she was just forcing herself into the situation! It wasn't anything that I did, she had no business butting in like that!"

Gogo was slightly taken aback. "No _business_?"

"She's not my mom."

"She might as well be, Hiro!"

"Well I still didn't ask her to barge in! That was her fault, not mine!"

"You can't just expect her not to get involved. She loves you."

"Well I don't love her." Gogo's eyes rounded out at the words, but Hiro ignored it. He just glowered darkly at her, his hands balled into tight fists at his sides. "Nothing I was doing was to her. It wasn't to anybody. It was to _me_. So I don't have to apologize for anything."

Gogo pursed her lips. She seemed to contemplate something for a moment. She turned, her jaw locked backwards as she turned and looked back at the blender. There was another gap in the conversation. Hiro's face tinged red with anger as he glared up at Gogo. Baymax was watching the pair interact with sharp attention; he did not interject. Yet it was clear that he was preparing to do just the thing with how worked up Hiro was getting.

The blender was already plugged in. Before Gogo could hesitate or give herself time to rethink the idea, she reached over and pressed one of the buttons randomly. There were a lot of them to choose from so she wasn't sure which one would be the best. But apparently it was good enough to do the trick. As soon as she pressed the button, the machine's blade immediately snapped into life. It churned up the contents that had been stacked inside of it, and as soon as it was through with that, the contents went entirely haywire as well.

Everything flew out of the blender and sprayed over the room in the nearest vicinity. Gogo was braced against it, but Hiro obviously wasn't. The teenager squeaked, his arms flying up to try and shield himself in some way. But the blender was scooted much closer to him than it was to Gogo, and regardless of his efforts, the blender's contents were forced out of their container, and a good majority of it splashed up to cover him.

The entire front of his hoodie became stained with half-pureed strawberries and bananas. And the runoff of milk that had managed to get on him was now making quick work in leaking down to his shoes. Gogo escaped mainly unharmed— she only had a few splashes here and there on her. Compared to Hiro she was free of the mess. The teenager leaned back into her hips, her expression stony as she took her hand off of the button, seeing that there was nothing left that could shoot out from the mixer.

Hiro's eyes were wide. Taking his arms away from his face, the boy turned and looked down at himself in shock. Of course, once that initial emotion ebbed away, he was back to festering in anger instead. He flooded with the emotion, and, hotly, his head snapped back up so that he was glaring daggers up at Gogo. "What the _heck_!?" he all but screamed. Gogo still seemed blank. She was almost apathetic as she just stared at him. He waved his arms around, as if to accentuate the mess that was currently _everywhere _on him. A chunk of mashed banana was sliding down his cheek. "What was that for!? You didn't even put the lid on it!"

"I have no idea what you're talking about," Gogo said dismissively. She turned, eyeing the blender a little skeptically for a second or two. There was hardly anything left inside after all of that. She blinked once and turned back to the boy, her expression guarded. When she replied, her voice was curt and cold. She didn't even bat an eyelash at the mess that was all over the boy. "I was just making a smoothie for myself."

Hiro's mouth was halfway open. Fury still clouded his gaze, and he was obviously trying to grope for something to say. He seemed to come up with nothing though— or at least nothing that would work.

Gogo looked for a paper towel or a rag to start cleaning up the mess that had spilled over onto the counter. She felt Hiro's incredulous gaze burning through her, but she disregarded it entirely. She just offered him another shrug. "Not my problem that you stood too close to the blender."

Hiro didn't say anything. He couldn't.

He wanted to. But he couldn't.

He just stood there, remnants of a now-wasted smoothie dripping off of him as he stared blankly at Gogo. Baymax leaned over, reaching out and starting to dab at Hiro's face— probably trying to get that piece of banana off of him. For once the young boy did not react to the robot's intrusive nature. He just stared, his throat suddenly tight as he looked down. At the mess. At himself.

Suddenly there didn't seem to be much difference.

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A/N: Past me: Ya know what, I'm gonna make this chapter shorter. I don't need to go on as long as I have.

Me now, at midnight, staring at a 14 page long chapter: …Well this is the opposite of what I wanted. :)

Please tell me what you think! My birthday is tomorrow! If I could get the gift of reviews? :D


	15. Chapter 15

A/N: I should say it's my birthday more often— I got a bunch of feedback! Thank you! :D

I've decided I'm going to update soon after I get about ten or so reviews. I don't mean to dangle any numbers in anyone's faces in the slightest. I just really think that this site is also meant for writers to grow and learn, and I think that getting feedback on your work through reviews is the best way to do that. So yup! Just a new thought to go by…

By the way, sorry about the wait. I went back and edited over Breathe because apparently I used to have no idea how dialogue worked. So I went back over and fixed the blatant grammar issues. I've got a little bit more peace after doing that :P

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"So if you just get into this line here, it'll take you to the front again and then you can pay for all of it. Don't worry about it, either, Aunt Cass already put some money in your account. You remember your pin code, right? It's just ten numbers— of course you do. You just put that in and it'll work for you— just like it did at your last school. I guess that's one thing that stayed the same here, then, right?" Tadashi grinned gently down at his little brother. Hiro blinked and didn't reply, seeming pensive as he looked down at the tray of food that he held close to his chest.

The high school cafeteria was bustling with activity like it always did at this time of day. The first slot for lunch was consistently the most packed; it was pure luck that he and Hiro had gotten into the same one, considering how many people were already inserted there. It had taken nearly five whole minutes for Tadashi to find Hiro in the first place at the start of lunch— it wasn't all that helped really, when you took in the fact that Hiro was only about three feet tall. In comparison to everyone else in the cafeteria, he looked about seven years old.

At the moment, Hiro was acting quite unlike himself. The weeks leading up to his very first day of high school, he had been talking and bragging nonstop. He had bounced up and down at the mere thought of his own locker, he had squealed over how much bigger the building would be, and the young boy had been bubbling over the thought of being able to go to more than just one class a day. When Tadashi had given him the list of all the math and science classes that were available to him now, the nine-year-old had nearly fainted. Just the notion of taking Trigonometry nearly made him scream out loud.

But now he was a polar body. He was quiet and suddenly very small— well, smaller than he actually was. The nine-year-old had nearly keeled over in relief when Tadashi had first tracked him down at the entrance to the lunchroom. While they waited in line to get their lunches, Hiro had had a lot of stories. In Trigonometry, they had been given the syllabus, and Hiro already knew at least three topics they would be tested over. In Physical Science, Hiro had answered a question that nobody else had known. But he was still quieter than he normally was at home. And routinely, his eyes would flicker though the crowd around him similar to the way a bunny's would. Very fretful and confused and on-edge.

"Hey," Tadashi murmured, tilting his head to the side a little bit as he studied his little brother carefully. Hiro looked up, his expression weary. His brother raised his eyebrows expectantly. "What's up? Last night you couldn't even sit still. Now you're really quiet." Hiro blinked and offered a small up and down of the shoulders. Tadashi wasn't satisfied by the gesture though, it seemed. "You were telling me all those stories, right? You were having fun today so far?" Hiro hesitated. But after a pause he nodded. Tadashi mimicked the movement and offered him a wide grin. "So perk up, champ! You know? It might take some getting used to, but I can already tell that you're going to be amazing here! You'll fit right in!"

Hiro brightened with this. His lips curled back into a thrilled smile, and he stood a little straighter. At the change, Tadashi beamed even more. He turned and looked around, suddenly realizing that he had forgotten something from the back of the cafeteria. "Hey, you wait right here for me, alright? I'll go and get some ice cream!"

Hiro was wide-eyed. "They have ice cream here?" His voice was a small squeak.

Tadashi winked and reached over, ruffling his hair. "I'll get some. You just sit tight and I'll have it coming right up." Hiro nodded again and Tadashi turned, starting to weave through the crowd of teenagers while also juggling his own meal tray. Hiro turned, his feet scuffing the ground as he watched his brother leave him behind. A trace of nervousness leaked into his features as the distance between him and Tadashi increased, but he kept to his brother's orders and stayed rooted. He looked down at his food: a plate of noodles and some other side that Tadashi had made him get— it might have been soup; he wasn't sure considering that the lid of the bowl was closed.

"Hey, look! It's that one six-year-old!" Hiro blinked rapidly, perking as a sudden shout echoed over to him. The young boy stiffened and drew backwards slightly at the sight of three much-taller boys suddenly coming his way. The one near the front, Hiro didn't know his name at all, had been the one to call out. He was wearing zip-up hoodie and a backwards baseball cap. His hands were shoved down into his pockets, and when Hiro had to look up in order to see him, the kid smirked. His two friends behind him mimicked the expression; it was like they were robots. The one at the head grinned, his eyes flashing with mischief. "You're a little far away from preschool, huh, kid?"

Hiro was silent for a second. He was too stunned to reply. After a pause he drew himself up, locking his jaw backwards as his eyes narrowed. He gave out the best comeback he had stored, slightly disappointed at the words that rolled off his tongue. "I'm nine." He had been under the impression that the reply would be stronger. Or at least have a bit more banter in it than it did. Backtracking a little bit and trying to make up for it, he added on: "I'm not six. I'm nine."

The tall kid in front sneered. "Oh, I gotcha! But still— you're a little big for your britches up here, huh? I saw you going down the halfway with your little rolling suitcase! You looked absolutely _adorable_!" He leaned over and mimicked Tadashi's gesture as he patted his hands down onto Hiro's head and messed up his hair. His effort was harsher though, and it caused Hiro to stagger and lose his balance, nearly keeling over completely. He stumbled, barely managing to keep his food still on the plastic tray.

"It's not a suitcase!" Hiro yelped, looking enraged. "It's my backpack."

The kid raised his eyebrows, smirking again as he shook his head. "Why are you even _here, _kid? Shouldn't you be at a playground right now playing 'Ring-Around-The-Rosie'?" The others chuffed with laughter, and Hiro bristled, feeling heat rise up to color his face. Noticing the emotion, the teen snickered. "So tell me, little guy, how is it trying to play in the big kids' pool? I don't think we have any finger-painting here, but I'm sure you'd fit right in in the Special Ed classrooms." Hiro scowled, his lower lip beginning to jut out and start to shake against his wishes. "Do you ride the short bus home, kid? I bet you do. Hope the kid next to you doesn't drool all over you."

Hiro's fists clenched tightly around the metal ridges of the tray. "I just got out of Honor's Trigonometry," he piped up, his voice sparking with anger. "I'm not sure what _your _schedule looks like compared to mine, but going by your _stupid_ attitude I would say that you really shouldn't be making fun of me. If anyone's going to hop on the short bus, it would be you. But I'm not sure you could fit inside with your massive ego."

The kid's smile fell. It dropped completely to be replaced with a scowl. Anger clouded over his features, and Hiro's small spark of confidence was stamped out almost immediately. He blinked and sat back into his hips, swallowing a little uncomfortably. The kid's upper lip twitched, and when he spoke next, his voice was lowered into a growl. He took a step closer, and Hiro had to fight the urge to sitter backwards in reply. "You'd better watch it, short-stack," he snarled. "You may think you're hot stuff up here, but if you keep running that mouth, someone's going to teach you a lesson."

Hiro was shaking, but he kept his voice even as he replied: "I'm pretty sure you can't even sit through a lesson yourself." Immediately, he told himself to shut up, but it was kind of pointless by then. It was like looking at milk all over the floor and thinking: 'Well don't try and balance the bottle on top of your head.'

Before he could try and take back anything he said – he wasn't even sure that it would affect things at all if he tried to do anything of the sort – the kid lashed out. Hiro cringed backwards, his eyes screwing shut tightly as he braced himself for a punch or a kick. What he got was heat. It took him about two seconds to realize what had happened. The teenager had grabbed the end of his tray and flipped it back into his face. Hiro staggered, noodles immediately smashing into his face and dripping down his shirt. His assumption on what was in the small bowl with the lid was proved right— it was soup. It was _hot _soup.

The child yelped, his face creasing over in pain. He started to reach up to wipe at his eyes, but before he could he felt a hand on his chest, and a push soon after. He fell down to the ground with a thud and a soft groan. He jerked, pushing himself up with a flinch. He could already feel a million stares on him from the teenagers that were still getting their lunch. He looked down at himself and the mess that was literally all over him. His blue T-shirt was stained brown and the soup was burning his skin where it had seeped through his clothes and his shorts.

He looked up to see that the others had gone; but he could plainly hear laughter from somewhere in the crowd. Hiro looked down at himself, feeling like he was on fire under the weight of stares aimed his way. His heart picked up, hammering against his chest as he realized with horror that his own eyes were beginning to prick and burn. He felt tears welling up in his eyes, and he felt waves of embarrassment slam into him like he was standing in the ocean. He didn't know what to do at first; he just sat there. His shoulders shook up and down and his lower lip was trembling violently now.

"Hiro?" Tadashi's voice rose out above the small rumble of laughter, and Hiro immediately snapped to attention. Tadashi was heading back, two containers of ice cream stacked on his tray as he looped over to his little brother. The elder stopped short, his face immediately falling at the sight of his baby brother on the floor. "Hiro!?" He turned and set his tray down on a random shelf of food, completely forgetting it as he turned to break into a run. He dropped down into a crouch where Hiro was still sitting on the floor, and immediately the little boy could see the worry in the older teenager's eyes. He looked over the mess in shock. "Hiro, what's wrong? What happened?"

"I-I-I was just standing…a-and waiting and just…" He trailed off, cringing as he looked down at the mess currently on his shirt. He reached up and scrubbed at his eyes, flinching as the palm of his hand ran over slowly-cooling noodles and sticky sauce that still stuck to his skin.

"Here, c'mon." Tadashi stood and grabbed Hiro's hands, holding them tightly as he helped him get up. "Come with me. It's okay, c'mon." He turned and led Hiro out of the purchasing section of the lunchroom and then through the cafeteria. They bypassed the table that they had picked out for themselves, which still had their stuff on it. As they passed it, Hiro's eyes fell down his rolling backpack, and his heart twisted in a sense of something akin to embarrassment. Taking in large strides, Tadashi didn't stop or hesitate until they got to the bathroom. Entering the room and going to the nearest sink, the older brother fetched a few strands of paper towels.

He dipped them in water and then turned, starting to work first on Hiro's face to get the mess and gunk off of them. Kneeling down to do it properly, the elder looked at the young boy with concern written in every crevice of his face. "What happened, Hiro?" he asked. His voice echoed a little bit in the silence of the bathroom, yet it was hard not to be thankful that the place was empty. Especially now.

Hiro sniffed wetly, ringing with shame. "I can do it myself," he mumbled out of the corner of his mouth.

Tadashi paid no heed. He just continued to dab and rub at the little one's face, only repeating his question. "Hiro, what happened? Did you fall?" Hiro was mute. The boy shifted a little bit and flinched again, but after a while he gave a small shake of the head. Tadashi nodded slowly, starting to scrub his shirt as clean as it could be. "Alright then, it wasn't a fall." He pursed his lips and cocked his head to the right. "Hm…let's see…did you food come to life and try to eat you? I know that can happen sometimes." Hiro grinned just a little with this, and Tadashi chuckled as a giggle was wormed out of little brother. "No? Your food didn't come to life?" Hiro shook his head again. "Then what was it?"

Hiro's voice was soft when he replied. "A kid pushed me over." His voice was thicker than normal, and when Tadashi pulled back, his face creased with concern and a hint of anger, Hiro sniffed, feeling a tear leak out from his right eye. "They said that I was too little to be here and that someone was going to teach me a lesson. And then they pushed me." He ducked down hurriedly and wiped at his eyes, sniffing again. Tadashi's eyes were narrowed now and Hiro swung his arms back down with a sullen expression. "They flipped my tray up and then pushed me down. And now I'm all gross." He looked down at himself and barely held back a sigh. After a moment of silence, his voice dropped even more. Softly, he muttered: "The kids at my old school were nicer."

Tadashi was silent with this. He blinked slowly, as if trying to consider each point of the boy's words. After a moment he started up dabbing at his shirt once more, his voice thoughtful as he replied. "You remember that one time when we went to summer camp?" he asked, Hiro hesitating before giving a slow nod. "Well, you remember all those other kids that were there? You didn't get along with them very well for the first few days. But then once the week went on and you got to know them a little bit more and they got to know you a little bit more, you eventually found a way to be together with them, right?"

Hiro seemed doubtful still. "But this isn't summer camp."

"True," Tadashi relented. "But you should still have the same mindset. People don't get along at first, you know that. It takes time. You can't expect a flower to grow the second you water it, right?" He looked at Hiro expectantly, and when the boy nodded again, Tadashi went on. "It might take a while and it might seem like it'll never get better. But things always do. Especially things like this." He paused briefly, and quickly backtracked, his eyes narrowing. "And if it doesn't, then you're going to tell me and I'll make _sure_ that it'll get better, right?"

"I guess," Hiro mumbled loosely.

"You didn't have me with you when you wer in summer camp— I was with another age group. So that's something you can have this time around. Now you don't have to go through it alone; I'll be with you every step of the way. Right? From now on I'll be right by you; don't worry." Hiro nodded silently once more, and Tadashi turned, wetting the paper towel again. "You were so excited for high school, and you've worked so hard to get here. Don't let some stupid kid ruin it all because he's jealous of how smart you are." Hiro's eyes were trained on his brother intently, and the older brother grinned. He stood up a little bit and put his hands on either one of Hiro's shoulders. He raised his eyebrows and bent down to be eye level with him. His next words carried strong conviction. "You_ deserve_ to be happy. And you should _never _let anyone take that away from you. Hm?"

Hiro brightened up significantly with this. A small smile wormed over his mouth and quickly won over to a full-fledged grin. When Tadashi bent down lower to dramatically put his ear closer as if to hear better, Hiro giggled, reaching out and batting him away gently. "What was that?" Tadashi asked, reaching over and tickling Hiro's ribs. "What did you say? I couldn't hear you."

"Okay, okay!" the little boy giggled. Once Tadashi leaned back into his hips, Hiro looked up, grinning a bit softer now.

He stared up at his brother earnestly. The expression brought a smile to grace Tadashi's features in return. The elder leaned over and poked his shoulder lovingly. "You're the smartest little nine-year-old ever. Those other kids are just jealous. And soon enough they'll come around. You just have to know that and hold yourself to that higher standard, you know?" Hiro nodded again. Tadashi leaned over and ruffled his hair again. "Let's go and get that ice cream then, huh? We still need to eat lunch, too."

Tadashi turned and set aside the paper towel, looking down and unzipping his jacket. Once it was off he leaned over and held it out for Hiro to take and wriggle into accordingly. It was quite a few sizes too big for him— it nearly touched the floor. But it was perfect to cover up the mess that was now stained on Hiro's front, and after Tadashi leaned down and zipped it up, it was like nothing was wrong. The sleeves were very long, and Tadashi helped Hiro to roll them up so they wouldn't be hanging down over his hands. "It's a little big, but it'll last you for the next few hours, right?"

Hiro nodded eagerly.

Tadashi smiled. "Then c'mon. Let's go see whether or not we've still got time to go and eat. And you remember: next time someone gives you trouble, you tell me and I'll take care of it."

Hiro rolled his eyes. Even though the gesture was irritating, it was clear that Tadashi was relieved by the change in attitude. The old Hiro was back, at least. "I'll remember," he promised.

The elder grinned and offered him a wink. "There ya go." He patted his shoulder and started to draw back to head into the cafeteria again. Hiro's mood had recovered and the boy wore a toothy grin yet again, looking like he had when he had been telling Tadashi about his day earlier in the lunch line before the older brother had left. It would take some getting used to. Maybe a few weeks at the most. It was a given that people would do a double-take when they first saw a three-foot-something nine-year-old walking through the halls with them. But they would grow up and get used to it at some point.

"Don't worry," Tadashi assured. "It'll get better, I promise."

Hiro smiled. "I won't forget."

Tadashi started to go back to the lunchroom, but hesitated after a second. He grinned and dissolved into a small fit of laughter, turning back to the sink and wetting the paper towel again. "You've still got some stuff on your face," he teased, looking back and starting to scrub his cheek. Hiro yelped, high-pitched again as he closed one eye. Tadashi grinned even more. "You've still got some on your face, just hang on a second…"

"It tickles!" Hiro objected hotly.

"Well if you would just hold still for a second…!"

…

Hiro stared down dully at the floor, his eyes slightly distant and far-away. He blinked, rousing almost against his will as he became aware of something brushing against him. Baymax— the robot was still trying to clean up the mess that the smoothie left on him. It was ineffective so far; the robot was standing at Hiro's side, one hand extended as he wiped at the boy's face gently, trying to get the mush off of his cheek as best he possibly could. Hiro didn't react underneath the touch, almost numb to it at first as he just stared down at the floor. But when Baymax didn't quit, only taking a step closer to put more effort into wiping off the slush and bits of ice that were clinging to the child, Hiro felt his lower lip begin to tremble.

Gogo was silent where she stood. Her arms were crossed over her chest, and her gaze was almost expectant as she stared intently the younger boy's way. She didn't say anything, staying silent much like Hiro was doing; though it was unclear whether she was doing that just to match him, or she genuinely had nothing to say after that stunt. Hiro's clothes were sticky and heavy with the smoothie that had jumped out of the blender. Some of it had sprayed the counter and the floor, but most of it had landed on him. The feeling was uncomfortable, and he cringed, feeling a tightness in his chest.

He remembered how Tadashi had walked him back to the lunch line after coming out of the bathroom; when Hiro had pointed out the boy that had pushed him over, he remembered how Tadashi had glared at him with the angriest stare ever conceived by mankind. Or at least that was how he had thought of it at the time. And he remembered what had happened when he had come home— how Aunt Cass had immediately screamed at the sight of his clothes and the story that he told. She had immediately ushered him to the bathroom and got him some clean sleeping clothes to wear, all the while fuming and raging against anything and everything that she possibly could. The school, the kids inside, the government, you name it. She was enraged. Tadashi had to worm the phone away from her to keep her from calling the police.

She had made Hiro's favorite meal later that night, and she made a special point to tuck him into bed, despite how much he had objected and whined. She'd given him a kiss and when he woke up the next morning, she had met him downstairs with a lunch already packed for him. Hiro remembered how much he had complained to Tadashi on the bus to school. How he had flushed with embarrassment over the sappy note that had been included in his lunch, wedged underneath his cookie.

Baymax continued to wipe at his face, surveying the boy intently as he made sure to not only be gentle, but also efficient. After a moment he leaned forward, titling his head to the side. "Hiro, if you take off your sweatshirt, I can ensure that when it is returned to you, it will be clean." He was still rubbing at Hiro's face, worming off the last few streaks of sprayed drink. Frankly, it wasn't clear whether he was cleaning up the mess or just making it worse. Hiro didn't move at first; Baymax drew back after a moment and looked down at his hand, which was now colored a light pink, a few clumps of strawberry and banana here and there. He hesitated, looking around for a moment, as if unsure of what he should do. But then he seemed to think that he wasn't as important as he turned back to the boy. "Will you hand me your sweatshirt?"

Hiro's eyesight was blurring rapidly. His throat swelled, and the young teenager didn't move at first. He just remembered the dim lighting of a bathroom, a smile that reassured him that everything would be alright. He closed his eyes tightly, jerking into motion. He grabbed the bottom of his sweatshirt and tugged it harshly over his head, moving much more rapidly than he normally would. He jerked his jacket off and let it fall to the ground, Baymax already stooping down low so that he could scoop it into his arms. Yet as the robot moved, he blinked, looking at Hiro and perking. "You've still got some on your face," he alerted the child, who tensed immediately with the deliverance. "I was unable to get it all off— I apologize."

He stood and started to lean over again, holding the sweatshirt now as some kind of rag. But Hiro reacted before he could. His hands flew up from his sides and he rubbed harshly at his skin, his eyes snapping shut. His lower lip was trembling, slowly growing more and more violent as seconds ticked by. But after a moment, his eyes cracked open, and the boy suddenly found himself freezing. He hadn't taken his sweatshirt off since he had gotten here. It had been so long that he had forgotten what kind of shirt he was wearing underneath it. But now he realized.

He was wearing a short-sleeved shirt, not a long one. In effect, his arms were bare, not hidden away underneath a cover of fabric. He sniffed, perking and lowering his arms a little bit, his eyes tracking their movement closely. The bandages that the hospital had applied to him were still wrapped tightly in place. They stretched all the way from the tops of his wrists to the crease of his elbows. The sight of it caused his stomach to suddenly fall out from under him, and the boy's breathing hitched, as if a sudden chokehold was being clamped around his esophagus.

Baymax was immediately snapped to attention. He lowered the sweatshirt, blinking once. "Your heartbeat has escalated significantly," the robot pointed out. "And your breathing pattern has grown erratic." No sooner did the robot say this did Hiro realize that his shoulders were heaving in a suddenly-desperate fashion of gasps. His lungs staggered and stumbled, unsure of how to handle themselves. It was like he was suddenly forced underwater and he was now struggling to relearn how to breathe properly under the waves. "Hiro, do you wish to sit down and rest? It might help you to calm down and relax."

Gogo straightened, her eyebrows knitting together. "…Hiro?"

Hiro slowly started to gasp, looking from his arms then back down at himself, then back to his arms and then back to the mess. His mind was everywhere and nowhere at the same time, and he couldn't scrounge himself together properly. His body broke out into a severe tremor, and suddenly the room seemed too small— too tight and too constricted. From somewhere in the back of his mind he registered the fact that Fred had rushed back into the room, his arms laden down with assortments of food that Baymax had asked him to retrieve. He called out something loudly at first— probably something aloof; or at the very least awkward or weird. But Hiro didn't hear; it was in the back of his mind almost. He wasn't able to focus on anything, really.

"Hiro, you must calm down," Baymax urged gently.

Fred straightened, looking a cross between alarmed and saddened as he titled his head to the side. "Hiro? Are you okay?" he asked immediately.

Gogo was still silent, just staring at him. Though her arms did uncross from over her chest to go back to her sides.

Hiro was nearly gasping for air. Somehow a normal in-and-out rhythm wasn't able to suffice. _'You deserve to be happy. And you should_ never_ let anyone take that away from you. Hm?' _Hiro's face crumpled in on itself, and the boy cringed backwards, nearly folding down and away from everyone else. Baymax said something else, but Hiro cut him off with a shivering gasp that wrenched against his throat sharply. He reached up to press the heels of his hands into his eyes, and he let out a noise halfway between a gag and a sob. He stumbled backwards, his head spinning out of control as the ground seemed to give way underneath him.

Blood was rushing out from his head.

Air didn't seem to fill his lungs no matter how much he tried to croak and gasp.

He felt himself starting to crumble and fall. He knew that he should start to catch himself— he should try to regain his balance or at least prop himself up against a counter or something. But his body wouldn't react to him. Instructions went through one end of his mind and out the other uselessly. His knees started to bend inward against his will, but before he could fall, he suddenly felt arms wrap around him, holding him up with a tight vice.

At first he was prepared to lash out and shove Baymax away. This would make the fourth time that the robot had tried to hug him since_ this morning_, and he was really already getting sick of it, to be honest. But as he opened his eyes, biting down on his lower lip to try and stifle its trembling, he realized that Baymax hadn't moved from where he was standing— the only way that he had turned was to twist around so that he could still keep watch over the boy.

Fred had rushed forward, wrapping his arms around Hiro and suddenly hugging the younger boy. The child stumbled, unable to dig his heels into the ground and stop himself from being tugged close to the teenager. He didn't have enough strength to even jerk out of his grip in the first place, taking into consideration his weakened physical state. He was limp, unmoving as he allowed himself to be pulled nearer to the other. There was less than an inch's space in between them, and Hiro could feel the older boy's chin balanced on top of his head. Fred didn't say anything at all; he just held Hiro close, being careful of the boy's arms as to not hurt the wounds that were already there.

At first Hiro was too surprised to do anything at all. The boy was stock-still, his eyes wide and finally overflowing with water as his tears leaked down his face. The change was sudden and abrupt. He went from standing covered in smoothie to being held upright and balanced in a ginger fashion. Yet despite the effort given by Fred, Hiro didn't return the embrace— his arms were limp at his sides as his mind blanked with not only confusion but of a kind of panic as well. He tried to scrape together some kind of retort, some kind of avoidance he could use. His heartbeat was still thudding loudly in his ears, and his breathing had all but stopped entirely for the moment at hand.

After a second, Fred adjusted his grip, not letting go of the boy but making sure that his grip was still very much present. Hiro tried to duck down and away, finding the sudden contact stifling if not choking. But before he could even try to bend down and wriggle out from the touch, he stopped short instead. The young boy blinked a few times, his throat suddenly closing as his stomach went into a violent twist. His eyes closed, and the teenager found his shoulders jerking unevenly again. A small sound leaked out from the back of his throat – he wasn't sure what it was himself – and he could feel the sting of even more tears well up in his eyes.

Fred responded by moving his arms up and down, rubbing Hiro's shoulders gently in what was clearly supposed to be a soothing measure. Yet instead of making Hiro feel better, it did the exact opposite for him. Hiro hunched forward, his forehead pressing hard into Fred's chest. The boy felt his face flush with heat, and though he wanted to do anything but, Hiro suddenly found himself crying— sobbing into Fred's shirt, which helped to muffle the noise only slightly.

A startled noise came from Fred, though it was quiet and hardly heard over Hiro's sniffs and gasps. "Hiro, don't cry…" he murmured, his eyes somewhat wide. When Hiro didn't seem to listen, Fred pulled back slightly, still rubbing the boy's shoulders a little bit as he tried to meet his eyes. "Listen, man, it's okay. Right?" Hiro brought his hands up to his face, covering his eyes and hiding his features as he just sniffed loudly. His hands were still shaking, and Fred could tell that his balance was still off-center than what it normally was. He was still upset. Beyond upset, really. And why wouldn't he be?

Fred twisted his head around, still holding onto Hiro as he turned and shot a glare Gogo's way. It was harsh and corrosive— very different than what he normally was. The girl was still standing a few feet away, having not moved whatsoever. But it was clear by the look on her face that she was sobered by Hiro's reaction. She seemed guilty and saddened at the scene that was quickly unfolding; as she glanced from the boy to the blender and the mess that had been created, her face was written over with a small shade of doubt. Yet surely there had to be more inside of her head; with how stoic and flippant the girl could be at times, she was probably holding back quite a lot more than she was actually letting on.

The older boy turned back after shooting the glare Gogo's way. "Hiro?" he asked, his voice layered think with concern as he realized that the boy was still hunched over. "Hiro, buddy, are you okay? Do you want to— I got you some food, are you hungry?" Hiro didn't reply at first. He repeated the question and after hesitation, Hiro shook his head in a small gesture of refusal. Fred bit back a surge of anger directed towards Gogo – what had she been thinking? – but he controlled himself enough to offer Hiro a smile. "You okay, Hiro? Do you— you wanna..._talk _about something? You wanna get something out on the table?" Hiro didn't reply, keeping his head down low as he sniffed, rubbing at his eyes roughly. A bit awkwardly, Fred looked to the side, reaching over and tapping the counter with a blink. "It's right here, if you want to," he said, trying to crack a joke. He knew it probably came out in bad taste, however.

Hiro mumbled something out, yet it was incoherent amid his small gasps and sniffs.

Fred bent down a little bit, cocking his head a little bit as his eyebrows knitted together. "What was that?"

"I said I want to go back to my room." Hiro's voice was tad clearer, but it was also hindered— small and sad as a pathetic ring came along with it. Fred wilted, looking disappointed with the reply. He was almost hoping that if he didn't move or didn't react, then Hiro would maybe change his mind. Hopefully realize that being out here was better than being alone. Though looking at the smoothie mess that was literally everywhere – especially on him – he was kind of rethinking the idea. Despite his hopes, Hiro mumbled again, shuffling a bit as he ducked his head back so that his forehead wasn't pressed into the other's shirt. "Let go." The words lacked hostility or push. It was hollow and empty, and Hiro didn't move whatsoever, just waiting for Fred to heed his plea.

To be honest, Fred would have preferred the child to be angry instead of being…well, _nothing_.

"You sure?" he asked, hesitant to agree but knowing that he didn't have much of a choice. "You sure you don't want to stay out here for a little bit more? I can clean the mess up and you can sit down and have some food to eat, you know? You don't want to do that?" They were so close; Hiro had come out of his room. Whether it was because of Baymax had dragged him out, or whether it was because of what he himself had wanted, Fred had no idea. But it was like trying to get a small bunny to hop over to him— he didn't want to scare it away.

Hiro started to take a step backwards, and Fred got the message. He let go of the boy and sighed through his nose as Hiro immediately drifted back towards the entrance of the kitchen. His hands strayed up every so often to rub at his eyes, which were already red and puffy from instances of crying. The way he stood, he resembled a piece of paper that was folding in on itself more and more as time went by. It was like he was hardly able to stay upright.

Baymax turned, blinking as he surveyed the food that Fred had deposited on the counter on his way to dash over to Hiro. He seemed to scan the contents quickly and stepped forward to separate out some of the things that were better for his patient. "Hiro; would you like to eat crackers? Or a banana? Or perhaps some bread?" Hiro didn't reply. The teenager sniffed with a small grimace, turning and looking over at the robot with a somewhat sullen expression. Baymax looked from the boy to the food, waiting. And waiting. Eventually he just grabbed the box of crackers. He looked from the boy to the box, waiting for an objection. Hiro just turned his back, rubbing at his arms with a pained frown. Crackers it was, then.

Hiro stayed unmoving for a few minutes, staring off into space as he fell silent, tears still dripping down the sides of his face. Fred turned and shot another look at Gogo. The girl sighed and closed her eyes for a heartbeat, walking a few paces forward and clearing her throat. "Hiro— Hiro, I'm sorry," her words were the smallest of sighs, her voice somewhat worn. "I was just trying to make a point; I could have been better about it, I should have thought a little bit more. I'm sorry; I really am. You shouldn't…" She trailed off, her face falling as Hiro began to walk abruptly, ignoring her as he turned and started back the way that he had come.

Disappointment clouded Gogo's expression as she leaned back into her hips and crossed her arms over her chest. Fred sighed as well, disheartened as the boy started back to his room. The two turned and looked over at Baymax, as if waiting for the robot to do something to fix things. Naturally, of course, that would be their first impulse. But the robot just perked at Hiro's departure, turning without a single glance at the others as he scurried after the boy dutifully. He was still holding the crackers.

Once they were alone, Fred turned and looked furiously at Gogo. "Are you serious?" he demanded at once.

The girl immediately flared in defense. "He's got to realize it at some point. This was just a good way to get my point across."

"What _point_!?" He grimaced and lowered his voice a little bit in case Hiro could still hear. "Gogo, we need to be slow with this. And _careful_. Even _I _know that. Can't you see how upset he is now? You know why he's upset? _'Cause you just sprayed smoothie all over him_!"

"Alright, I know what I did, okay?" Gogo snapped. "You weren't here, you don't understand. To him he hasn't done anything wrong, he hasn't affected anyone. He blamed Aunt Cass for getting 'involved!' And don't you dare try to defend him or anything— you saw how upset Cass was at the hospital! You saw what she had to go through. Hiro didn't. Or if he did he's just ignoring it. We need to wake him up and _make _him understand. I saw an opportunity and I took it."

"Okay, I know that it's frustrating," Fred sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose. "But it's probably frustrating for him too. If not worse, right?"

Gogo locked her jaw backwards. "We promised that we would make him better."

"It's just the first few days."

"But if we keep doing the way we have been, the days could be endless, and we still won't be able to keep our promise," Gogo retorted.

Fred shook his head, sighing. "You need to be patient."

She mimicked the gesture. "You remember how upset Cass was? At the hospital, I mean."

He hesitated. Eventually he cleared his throat and nodded. "Yeah. Yeah, I do."

Gogo stared at him steadily. "Then this _needs _to work. Otherwise we're going to see her like that again. And maybe this time she'll never get away from it."

Silence followed the words. Fred ducked his head down, stuffing his hands deep into his pockets.

Gogo straightened a little bit, her eyes narrowing as she waited for him to reply or object.

He didn't.

(•-•)(•-•)(•-•)(•-•)(•-•)(•-•)(•-•)(•-•)(•-•)(•-•)(•-•)(•-•)(•-•)(•-•)(•-•)(•-•)(•-•)(•-•)(•-•)

It was quiet— it had been quiet for a while now. Quiet isn't a problem; not really. Not after a while. After a while you start to get used to it, and then once you're accustomed to the feeling, you almost start to forget what anything else is like. It's why when the silence is suddenly broken, you usually jump or jerk in surprise. It's as though you're sleeping and someone grabs your shoulders and shakes you without any sort of warning.

"Hiro?"

Hiro's body went into a spasm, the boy lurching to the side and hitting his head against the wall with a dull thud. He cringed at once, hunching over at the waist and reaching up to rub the tender spot on his skull with a grimace. He growled in the back of his throat, his eyes narrowing and his eyebrows kitting together as he scowled. After he had walked through the door once he'd reached his room from the kitchen, he hadn't even waited until he sat down. He didn't even wait for the couch or the bed. He had positioned himself in one of the corners— opposite the one he usually banished Baymax to. His head pulsated and throbbed from its small collision, and he gave out a huff, reaching up and rubbing at his forehead with a cringe.

Baymax straightened. He was standing across from Hiro, the box of crackers still held tightly in his hands. "You have hurt your head," he noted immediately. "Would you like some ice? I could fetch some for you. Applying a cold compression to your injury would help to stave off any pain that you might be experiencing."

Hiro said nothing, only giving a gusty sigh as he drew his knees up to his chest and ducked his head.

Baymax blinked and tilted his head to the side. "On a scale of one to ten, how would you rate your pain?"

Hiro scowled. Under his breath he grumbled: "Leave me alone."

Silence returned, but only for a little bit. Tragically, it was broken once more by the same robot. "Hiro, you should eat. These crackers will not upset your stomach further— they will help you to recover with more ease. But you have to eat them."

Hiro huffed, reaching up and drawing his hands through his hair. "I'm not hungry."

Baymax still persisted. "You are malnourished. You need to eat."

Hiro didn't reply. After a moment's pause, Baymax seemed to decide that he was permitted to come out from his corner. The robot began to shuffle over to where Hiro was sitting, and though the boy sparked with irritation, he did not snap like he had gotten into the routine of doing. He turned and looked down to his right, at the hat that was now resting on the floor. He grabbed it by the brim and put it on his head, tugging it down low so that it nearly hid away his features entirely. He scowled and waited as the sounds of Baymax's footsteps got closer and closer. Eventually they stopped and sure enough, when Hiro looked up, the robot was hovering over him anxiously. He was like a hawk with the way that he was hanging over him.

Baymax hesitated. But after a moment he extended his arms, offering it to the boy silently.

Hiro peered up from the tops his knees, his eyes slightly narrowed from underneath the hat. For a heartbeat, the bitter side of him wanted to reach over and smack the box out of the robot's hands. And he almost did it, too. But after thinking over the idea he just figured that Baymax would just go over and pick it up just to offer it to him all over again. It would be a continuous cycle, and there wouldn't be much of a point to it. So he sighed in the back of his throat and reached over, grabbing the box and yanking it out of the other's hands, taking care to do it a little harsher than was needed.

Baymax did not say anything; he just continued to stare at the boy intently. Hiro glared up at him, but nothing changed. It was like staring at a wall and waiting for it to do something in turn. Scowling and grumbling underneath his breath, Hiro looked down and dug open the box. For a heartbeat or more he just stared listlessly down at the its contents, his stomach squeezing inward a little bit at the mere thought of digging out one of the crackers and putting it down his throat. When was the last time that he had eaten, even? Sometime in the hospital, probably.

Despite the curbing in his stomach, he reached down and wriggled out a singular cracker. He lifted it up to his mouth and started to eat it— well, eat it in a very minimal sense. He was slow and small; he nibbled and bit listlessly at the food, trying not to taste it or let it linger in his mouth for very long before he choked it back. Though the bites were small, it still took a large amount of effort to get them back. It was a full two minutes before he even started on another cracker.

Minutes dragged by in silence once more. It was a reoccurring phenomenon. It would certainly come back; the question was whether or not it could stay or how long until it was broken. By the time that Hiro was half-heartedly gnawing on his fourth cracker, Baymax was speaking again. Hiro growled in the back of his throat when the robot piped up, but once again the hint soared high above the thing's head. "Hiro, may I ask a question?" Baymax asked, his head tilting to the side with an inquisitive kind of nature.

Hiro narrowed his eyes, avoiding the robot's stare as he busied himself instead with peering down into the box of food. "That _was_ a question," he grumbled in response.

There was a pause. Baymax seemed to be considering this. Then after a moment he seemed to realize this and move forward in a correct fashion. "I see. If you would permit me to, I would like to ask another question, then."

Hiro sighed through his nose. "Then why don't you just _ask _it?" he snapped.

Baymax blinked and looked at Hiro's head— at the hat that was there. "Would you like to talk about your brother, Hiro?" he asked eventually.

Immediately Hiro jerked, in a similar fashion to the way he had moved when Baymax had first cut through the silence that had been permeating the room. Only this time it wasn't surprise that rushed through him; it was anger. Or at least that was the primary emotion that ran underneath his skin. His eyes narrowed into slits and his neck snapped back as he looked up and glowered at the robot. His hands clenched around the edges of the box, crinkling the cardboard. His teeth gritted together and for a heartbeat he didn't see how he could possibly reply. Eventually he did get something out; though it was quite obvious that it wasn't as stellar of a thing as it could be. "_What_?"

Baymax must have been able to pick up on the boy's anger. It was probably the first thing he noticed, in fact. But the robot remained just as composed and unaffected as he had been a few heartbeats ago. He just blinked again and better elaborated on his question. "I asked you if you would like to talk about your brother. It is perfectly normal for somebody who has lost a loved one to miss them. However, speaking about them often helps to alleviate the heartache you might be experiencing. When your brother is brought up in conversation, you react in a harsh and violent manner most of the time. Your actions mimic those of someone who wishes that they could forget their deceased. But going by the way that you carry and hold your hat with such care, it seems to be quite the opposite." Baymax blinked and cocked his head to the side. "If you talk about Tadashi, you would feel much better."

Hiro was silent. His lips were pressed together tightly, and for a moment or two she just stared at the robot blankly. He was groping for something to say, but it was like shoving your hand into a haystack and rooting blindly for a needle. He swallowed thickly, grimacing as he looked down into the box instead. He locked his jaw backwards and sighed hotly through his nose, noticing that his grip on the box still hadn't relaxed. He unclenched one hand and reached up to press it tightly against his forehead, noticing that his hand was shaking. His throat felt swelled and talking didn't really seem all that feasible.

He grimaced and shifted a little bit, moving his weight from side to side.

Silence bridged in between them. Baymax picked up on it and spoke again. "It is difficult to take the first few steps to recovery. But talking about your problems often helps. It can be very cathartic for a person in distress."

Silence again.

After a heartbeat, Hiro shook his head. It was the smallest of movements— just a small jerk to the side. His voice was small when he replied; it was barely audible in the first place. "No. No, I— no."

Baymax was not one to quit, despite all the signs that told him to. "Often, recounting old times that you had experienced with your loved one can help you feel more at ease with what has occurred. Unless you wish to forget about your brother entirely." There was another small lapse. "Do you wish to forget about your brother, Hiro?"

The boy's reaction was much faster this time, and much louder as well. "No! No that's _not _it, I just…I just—"

"If you do not wish to forget about your brother, you should try and become more inclined to speaking about him. Surely just because he is gone doesn't mean you should not—"

"Stop it!" Hiro exploded. "Stop it! Just because you're a robot it doesn't mean you know everything! Just stop it and leave me alone! I don't want to talk about him— I don't want to talk about anything! That doesn't make me want to forget him! I could never—" He grimaced and shuffled his legs closer to his chest. He swallowed back a hard lump in his throat, hunching forward and putting his chin down on the tops of his knees in a weary fashion. He shook his head just a little bit— the motion was slight and hardly noticeable. Baymax picked up on it though.

Hiro's voice was tired and worn as he mumbled: "Tadashi is…the only thing I do want to remember. I just…want to forget…everything else."

Baymax seemed to consider this. His voice was unwavering as he replied. "Even the good things?"

Hiro gave a wet sniff. Lowly, he muttered: "I don't have many of those."

"Is there a way I could make you feel better, Hiro?"

The boy refused to reply.

Baymax seemed to be in some kind of deep thought. He blinked and looked down at the ground. Hiro sighed through his nose and shut his eyes, hunching his shoulders forward in an almost sickened gesture. The silence was back, and yet again he was wondering just how long it would stay. This was nearly the only thing that the boy wished would actually linger— the more silence there was to fester, the more content that he was. He knew it wouldn't last; there was a pattern that was slowly stringing itself into life between him and Baymax. And sure enough, he broke the quiet.

But it wasn't the way that he had before. Not at all.

First there was a small buzzing sound; it wasn't very loud but it was loud enough to cause Hiro's eyes to open again. It was like static that could be on a radio when it wasn't in tune. Gradually it cleared though, slowly morphing into life that actually made sense rather than just mindless roving. Words came into focus out of the haze, separating and clearing out to take on meaning. "Hello. I am Baymax. Your personal healthcare companion. I was alerted to the need of medical attention when you said: 'Ow.'"

Hiro was rigid where he sat on the ground. Across Baymax's chest, where his pain scale would normally light up, was instead…himself. Well— no, not really. It was him…but from before. On the screen, his eyes weren't heavy with bags, and he didn't look like a breeze could knock him over. He was holding his arm gingerly— it could be seen that there was a bright, sore red spot somewhere on his forearm. His sleeve was rolled up, and the skin underneath his jacket was smooth and unblemished. It wasn't marred or stitched or wrapped with three layers of too-tight gauze. And when Hiro spoke from the robot's perspective, his voice wasn't brittle and flat. In fact, the voice that came out sounded as if it was trying to withhold some kind of laughter. "A robotic…nurse!"

The images being played over Baymax's chest was from what he had seen and recorded, that much was more than obvious. And as Hiro slowly began to recollect the night that this had been taken from, the young boy's eyes grew round as he tensed all over again. There was a new sort of light to his eyes, and suddenly every fiber of his attention and focus was on the robot. He turned and scrambled up to his feet, letting the box of crackers fall out of his grip as he hugged his arms instead. Baymax's video continued to roll, the robot's own voice coming out from the scene. "On a scale of one to ten, how would you rate your pain?"

Hiro watched himself. He raised his eyebrows at first, as if he was contemplating the question. "Physical?" The Hiro on the other side of the screen – so much different than the one in front of it – turned and scowled off to the side. At someone who was not included in the scene up until this point. "Or _emotional_?"

Baymax's voice came again. "I will scan you now…"

Hiro was hardly paying attention to the nitty-gritty by this point. He was biting down hard on his lower lip, his grip on his own arms increasing painfully as he stared forward. He was straining to see the very edges of the scene that Baymax was showing, struggling to see whether or not he could glimpse…trying to remember and track down when he had walked around to… His arms reached up to dig his fingernails into his head instead. His pure impatience alone would have made him start pacing, except he was too fixated on watching the scene play out. Pacing would tear his gaze away from it.

The 'other' him was grinning by now. "Not bad," Hiro heard himself comment. Again, the voice alone was much different than it was now. He watched as, on the screen, he turned and looked around Baymax, a snide grin on his face. "You've done some serious coding on this thing, huh?"

"Uh-huh." The two syllables were enough to smack Hiro across the face. Or…at least the voice that got out those two syllables. He jerked, his chest tightening and his lungs suddenly refusing to work as he went entirely still. His eyes immediately began to burn as if they were on fire, and frantically, he wiped at his eyes, realizing that his sight was blurring. "Programmed him with over ten thousand medical procedures. This chip is what makes Baymax…Baymax."

It was like walking into the house you had grown up in after being away in your own apartment for three straight years. It was like jumping into a pool of water after suffering under the sun for twelve straight hours. It was like finally being able to curl up in a comforting bed after one huge, long, horrible, day. And it was horrible, because you also knew that in a couple of seconds, that relief would be taken away from you again. You knew that you wouldn't be able to keep it. When was the last time he had heard Tadashi's voice? Had he almost forgotten what it had sounded like? His hands shaking, Hiro wiped at his eyes again and again, but despite his efforts, he couldn't seem to stop his eyesight from blurring beyond clarity.

He felt like screaming. Like crying and yelling at Baymax to just _hurry up_ as it stretched on. He didn't want to see himself— he didn't want to himself grin and tease and just be a complete idiot. That wasn't what he _wanted_. It wasn't what he _needed_. He barely held it back, barring the screech of frustration behind clenched teeth as instead he waited, transitioning awkwardly from digging his nails into his skull to into his arms. Eventually though, it came.

"Killer actuators," Hiro was busy fawning. "Where did you _get _those?"

"Ah— machined 'em right here, in house." Tadashi came into view now, his hands in his pockets as he paced a little bit closer to Hiro. There was a wide grin on his face – when was he ever _not _smiling? – and his expression was more than fond as he looked down at Hiro. His brother's eyes were light with amusement, and Hiro's throat swelled as more tears burned his eyes. His shoulders were shaking and suddenly breathing needed a step-by-step instruction guide. All he could think of was how many times he had gone to him for comfort, how many times Tadashi had hugged him away from something awful, and all that Hiro wanted was to have his brother hug him away from all of _this_. "Yup! He can lift a thousand pounds," Tadashi added, his eyes flickering from Hiro to where Baymax was standing.

Hiro heard his own voice, flat with amazement. "Shut up."

But Hiro's eyes were solely for Tadashi, despite the fact that his brother was mostly in the background. Just looking at him caused Hiro's chest to slice, as if someone had stuck a rusted blade there and they were slowly twisting it around in circles. His lower lip quivered, and he had to focus in order not to lose his own balance. He watched as Baymax's arm came into view— the robot was offering out a lollipop. On the screen, Hiro's eyes lit up and, with a happy mumble, he leaned over and took the offering heartily. And once the few simple words were said, Baymax turned and began to head for his charging station.

Regardless of the fact that he could still hear voices in the background, Hiro tensed, realizing with a stab of pure horror that it was almost over.

Tadashi's voice came from somewhere in the background. The amount of love and pride that was in every syllable of his words was enough to shake Hiro to the core. "He's gonna help a _lot _of people," his brother remarked.

_But he's not going to. He's not going to be able to help anyone now that you're…_

"Hey— what kind of battery does it use?" Hiro's voice came out muffled around the candy.

"Lithium ion."

"You know, super capacitors would charge way faster."

And…that was it. Suddenly there was nothing left.

_You Know-It-All idiot. Why on Earth would you try and correct him? Who cares what stupid batteries the thing uses, why did you feel the need to make yourself seem so much better than him? How many times did you _do _that? Don't you think he hated that? How could have been so rude, so mean to someone so…_

"Hiro." Baymax tilted his head to the side. "I did not mean to make you more upset."

Hiro jerked back to himself. His throat felt like he had just swallowed back a white-hot iron. Tears were still building faster than he could brush them away in his eyes, and his cheeks were sticky and hot from the ones that had already fallen. His chest was heaving up and down, his hands shaking at his sides. He didn't reply. He just stared at the place where Baymax's screen had been shortly before, as if he was just waiting for the images to pop back up again. Baymax blinked and tried once more. "I was attempting to make you feel better. I am unsure as to whether or not I have accomplished that."

Hiro's voice was strangled when he replied. Again, he was reminded of how different it was. "Show me again."

The robot blinked. "What was that, Hiro?"

He reached up and scrubbed at his eyes with the back of his arm. When he recovered enough to speak, his voice escalated into a slight yell. It was much louder and harsher than before. "I said show me again!" he snapped. "Play it again!"

Baymax hesitated. He turned and looked down at the ground where the crackers had been discarded. He took his time in replying. "…You have stopped eating."

Hiro blinked rapidly. He turned and looked down at the floor. For a heartbeat or more he glanced from Baymax to the stupid box of crackers. After a moment he growled but caved, stooping down and grabbing the food up again. He straightened – fighting a dizzy spell – and reached in to take a cracker out of the container. Pointedly, he showed it to the robot and took another miniscule bite. To the robot at least; to Hiro, he couldn't manage anything more than that. Especially at the moment.

Baymax considered the action. Silence measured itself in between them. Hiro found himself glowering at the robot, a sense of hate lingering in the back of his smoldering gaze. It was directed to the robot, surely. If Tadashi hadn't cared for it so much— if he hadn't been so driven into taking part in something like this…he wouldn't have been at that stupid school. He wouldn't have died.

But he knew – at least some part of him did – that that wasn't entirely true. It was him…

If he hadn't been there at the Showcase…with those stupid Microbots…

The thoughts were cut off and sliced away. The screen flickered to life once more and suddenly Hiro's train of thought was switched back over to straining for a glimpse of his brother, or to hang on to whatever minimal words that could be heard.

It wasn't much at all.

It was pathetic.

…_He _was pathetic.

(•-•)(•-•)(•-•)(•-•)(•-•)(•-•)(•-•)(•-•)(•-•)(•-•)(•-•)(•-•)(•-•)(•-•)(•-•)(•-•)(•-•)(•-•)(•-•)

It was quiet and surreal. It was drizzling snow outside, and though the house was freezing, the group of kids were bundled up like burritos in blankets and even a few sleeping bags. They were all sprawled out on the couch or the floor, silent as they stared up at the large television a few short feet away. They had been marathoning Christmas movies ever since dinner had ended. Though it was agreed upon that they wouldn't actually celebrate the holiday today, that didn't mean that while Hiro was still refusing to come out of his room, they couldn't watch a few classics to try and make light of their situation.

Honey Lemon blinked, sprawled on the floor with her legs up in the air. Her chin was balanced on a stack of pillows, and she had a bright kind of shine in her eyes as she looked up at the screen. There was a huge grin on her face. Which was relief of course, considering the fact that recently they hadn't been able to be such lighthearted. "I love this movie," she commented to nobody in particular. "It's so cute. I think it's the best Christmas movie ever, you know?"

'Clark?'

'Yeah, honey?'

'Audrey's frozen from the waist down.'

'That's all part of the experience.'

Gogo was slouched into the pillows of the couch, her legs crossed and folded. "I remember when my mom first showed me this movie. I thought it was the stupidest thing ever."

Honey turned and shot her glare. "That's because your favorite Christmas movie is Elf."

The dark-haired girl scowled deeply. Though Honey Lemon was well aware of the fact that her ears and cheeks tinged pink. She hunched over, hugging a pillow to her chest as she grumbled over harshly: "I don't like Elf…"

Wasabi was sitting upside-down on the couch, his legs slung over the furniture's back. In a monotone voice, he sighed: "Gogo, you love it."

She growled. "Shut up."

Honey Lemon hummed out a small laugh. "We could put that one in next, maybe."

Fred spoke up, but diverted away from the track of lighthearted conversation. In contrast, he seemed slightly troubled. "Shouldn't we go and see about Hiro?" he asked, seeming a little perturbed as he mumbled this. "I mean…maybe if we ask him to watch a movie he'll be more inclined to come out, right? He'd probably like some of this stuff." He pursed his lips and threw a pointed looked in Gogo's direction. "And there's no blender in the living room, either."

Gogo's voice was laced with irritation as she snapped: "Try me."

Fred huffed and turned back to the television, looking just as angry.

Honey Lemon twisted back to look at the pair of them, her forehead creased over in confusion as her eyes went from one to the other. She turned and looked at Wasabi, a question on her features plain as day. But he looked just as lost, shrugging his shoulders in an 'I dunno' motion. She sighed through her nose but figured that asking would only make things worse. So she turned back around to the screen, frowning as she tried her best to sound optimistic when she moved on. "Uh…would you guys wanna make some…cookies or something? Maybe we could try and see whether or not—"

She realized that nobody was listening to her at all. The room was silent, sure, but it was a different kind of silent. A certain amount of tension was sprung into the air, and all of a sudden the room – though way too big in the first place – felt too small. Or at least not as spacious. She blinked rapidly, turning back to look a little accusingly back at the others. However before she could try and ask what was wrong, it was answered for her.

It was Hiro.

He was lingering in the entrance of the living room, wearing a different sweatshirt as he kept his hands buried into its front pocket. He was pensive and silent— his lips were pressed tightly together, and as everyone turned and looked back at him, he seemed to get even smaller somehow. Baymax was standing closely behind the young boy, about maybe an inch away from the child. Hiro still looked tired and worn— his eyes were a bit redder than normal too in the flickering light of the movie. His shoulders were tense and rigid— it showed how on-edge he seemed to be underneath the façade of his bland expression.

Wasabi recovered first. "Hiro!" For all it was worth, he could not withhold all of the surprise from his voice. "Hey, buddy! You're finally out!" Gogo elbowed him hard in the ribs as the words escaped his lips. He yelped and looked over at her angrily, but he was silenced by the scowl she shot his way.

Hiro didn't reply. He glanced down at the ground, scuffing at the floor with the toe of his shoe.

Fred was bright at the sight of the boy. "Hiro, we've been watching movies all night; we were just going to come and get you." He offered him a wide grin. "Do you like 'Christmas Vacation'? We just started it if you wanna join in." When Hiro only looked up silently from the floor, Fred gestured to the TV. "Or we can rewind it too, if you want. From the very beginning? It's no trouble."

He shook his head. "No. That's fine." His voice was the smallest of murmurs. They could hardly hear it over the movie playing in the background. He turned and looked over at the TV with that same reserved kind of stare. Honey Lemon noticed how dark his bags were underneath his eyes even from where she was laying on the ground. There was a certain heaviness to the look on his face. It had been there before, surely, but somehow now it was more prominent. Or maybe it was just this situation. …Surely?

Baymax was still lingering over Hiro carefully. His eyes did not stray from the child.

Hiro shifted. He continued to stare down at the floor. He spoke up after a second, his voice low. But by now it was pretty clear that nobody was paying attention to the movie by this point. All eyes and ears were solely for the boy who, up until this point, had hardly said a single word to them as a whole. "…I want to go home," Hiro mumbled, his lips hardly moving with the plea. Nobody spoke. Honey Lemon glanced at Fred with a hint of pain in her eyes, but she didn't try to interject. At the silence, Hiro looked up, his expression unbearably heavy. No child his age should have had such a weary, tired expression. "…When can I go home?"

It took a moment to wrap their minds around the question. Thankfully Wasabi was the one to speak up. "It's up to you, Hiro."

The boy turned, blinking slowly. Then: "But…it's not. …Is it?"

Wasabi quieted with the slight objection. He was much less certain on how to answer the follow-up.

Fred offered the best that any of them could manage. "In a way…maybe not."

Honey Lemon pushed up into a sitting position. She looked at the boy in a sorrowful manner. "It's difficult, Hiro. …You know that, right? It just…it can't be easy. None of it can— not anymore."

Silence followed this. Hiro, who had looked over to Honey Lemon as she spoke, now ducked his head again. But from the glare that the television was throwing the boy's way, Honey's heart constricted as she realized that tears seemed to be glinting in his eyes. His shoulders drooped but somehow they still remained stiff and tense at the same time. Baymax blinked, shuffling even a little bit closer to Hiro in a sense of concern. He must have realized the boy's reaction as well. The blonde tensed, her eyes rounding out as she started to get up from the floor. She wasn't sure on what to do— it was a mystery as to what could help by this point and what could just make things all the more worse. It was like trying to run through a maze blindfolded; you weren't ever sure on which way was the best to take and which one would just have you crashing into a wall.

"I don't want to stay here," Hiro objected, looking back up at them. He seemed to be trying to glare their way, but the expression was near impossible with the sheer amount of sadness that crowded his features. The others were tight-lipped and he pressed on after a heartbeat. "I don't want to stay here." His voice was quivering just slightly. "Why are you keeping me here?"

Silence.

Honey Lemon said the first thing that came to mind. The only thing that she figured could possibly help at the moment. "Because we love you."

Hiro blinked rapidly at this, obviously taken aback. The gravity of the words – however true they were for her, at least – slapped the girl across the face and, a little awkwardly, she ducked her head, shifting her weight a little bit on the blanket she was perched on. The others seemed a tad surprise at the girl's reply, but they didn't seem all that perplexed or cross. In fact after a moment, Fred spoke up. "Yeah, Hiro. We're not gonna stand by and watch you just…stay like this." Gogo gave a nod, and Wasabi murmured quick agreement as well.

Hiro's expression was mixed and clouded. Sorting through it would probably take about twenty minutes to half an hour. It was near impossible almost. The boy looked from one person to the other, his jaw locked backwards as his hands clenched and unclenched where they were at his sides. He opened his mouth as if he were about to say something, but he seemed to take it back as he just snapped it shut again. He glanced down at his feet. Then off to the side. Nobody tried to speak or rush him to do the same. They just stared and waited. Either for him to turn and walk away again, or…well, they had never gotten so far as to be able to finish that sentence.

After what seemed like years upon years, Hiro finally moved. He stuffed his hands back down into his hoodie pocket and started taking small, measured steps. The entire group was nearly rigid and unmoving. They were acutely aware of every small movement Hiro made as he rounded around the couch towards where Honey Lemon was sitting. Baymax followed close, not straying a foot away from the boy and refusing to be left behind even a little bit.

Hiro walked around to the front of the couch and slowly, a little awkwardly, sat down on the floor. He blinked, drawing his legs up to his chest— it felt like this was slowly becoming a habit. His eyes were still watering, and his jaw was still locked backwards in a sense of anger or resentment. But once he wrapped his arms around his legs, and lowered his chin down, he fell silent and let the topic drop. Instead he turned his eyes over to the television screen. After a second, Baymax lowered himself down to sit beside him too.

Honey Lemon stiffened considerably. Everyone seemed surprised, and rightly so.

But nobody was brave enough to speak or point it out for fear of ruining everything.

So they turned back and tried to focus on the movie. Suddenly it was considerably harder to get excited for the film's plot now that Hiro had actually strayed outside and chose to stay. It wasn't much; he was still upset and he still hated it here. All he had done was just sit down with them to stare blandly forward at a TV screen. But…but still…it was more than they had had in the past few days.

It wasn't much.

But it _was _much more than they had had up until this point.

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A/N: I'm not sure why but I don't really like this chapter…or at least some parts of it…or at least to me it isn't as stellar. It was written in between gaps of band camp and short bursts of sleep so it might have suffered a little bit because of that. Hopefully you don't agree and it's just me being hard on myself— but if not, then I sincerely apologize!

But I would love to hear your feedback— bad or good, of course. I always want to improve on my writing and reviews are the best way to do that :)


	16. Chapter 16

A/N: This update it a little bit earlier than the others. (Actually a lot earlier, I should get some serious props for this.) Half of it is just because I appreciate the fact that I am getting feedback from you all, and I appreciate that!

But it's also because as of Tuesday, August 11th, I will be starting school. And with marching band and advanced classes and such I can't really guarantee frequent updates. That isn't to say that I'm stopping— you'd better believe that every second of free time will be fueled into this story. But please know that you need to be patient from this point on. And hopefully this won't be as big of a problem as I'm fearing, but I would still like the closure of making sure that all of you are aware of the fact. Thank you very much! And I promise I will do all I can for you guys and this story!

(Long note I know. But it's important.) Please don't get onto me about any ages or anything, you know? I'm not sure about ages but I'm just going off on what I think would be best.

Update: I went over and edited it! So it should be alright now –she says hopefully-

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Waking up was the equivalent of running a marathon with a ball and chain strapped to your ankle while you're forced to carry an anchor along behind you at the same time. It was really hard, really impossible, and about halfway through, you find yourself even questioning whether or not you want to carry this thing through to the end. It would have been much easier to just fall back asleep, but regardless of the fact, Hiro dragged himself back into consciousness. It wasn't because he was just that motivated to get up, it was quite the opposite. He wasn't geared towards leaping out of bed and cracking out a few jumping jacks.

The young boy let out a small grumble, his lips hardly moving with the expression of irritation. His forehead creased, and he only got his eyes to open halfway before he was overcome with a strong sense of frustration and annoyance. Surely it was some kind of humanity record: the shortest time someone has ever gone through a day before wanting to scream. It was only like two seconds— someone should call 'Ripley's Believe It Or Not!'

His voice was laced with poison as he rasped out in a grating whisper: "_What_…could you _possibly_…want now?"

Baymax was, of course, standing presently at the child's bedside. Where he had been ever since Hiro had crawled under the blankets after watching some kind of Rudolph movie. There were too many of them to count in total; there were certainly too many of them to pay attention to the one that was on the screen. Hiro wasn't sure at all what level battery Baymax was at by now— surely the robot had been charging whenever he was sleeping, right? Otherwise he _had_ to be running on fumes. And quickly running out of those as well.

"Good morning, Hiro," Baymax greeted. Hiro blinked slowly, obviously groggy. He was still half-asleep. Regardless of the fact, the robot went on. "You slept for approximately four hours, twelve minutes, and thirty-eight seconds." He tilted his head to the side. "Do you feel rested, Hiro?"

Hiro replied after a pause, his voice still slurred with sleep. "I would feel much more rested if you weren't staring at me like a psychopath."

"My interest is for your health and safety. I would not harm you."

Hiro put his head back down on the pillow, curling his knees up to his chest as he folded down into a ball. "That's amazing to know; I feel so much better," he growled.

"I am glad, Hiro." The boy stifled a groan as Baymax seemed almost pleased. _No sarcasm filter. _"But I think you will feel even better in a few moments." He looked up at this, but he was not in the slightest bit interested. It was more like he was daring the robot to go on. And he did, predictably. "After last night, I have come to terms with the fact that perhaps my approach in regards to your condition has not been the best. I have reevaluated the process based off of what I had observed last night."

Hiro's nose wrinkled in confusion. "Last night? …Nothing happened last—"

"You seemed to react in a positive way to the Christmas-themed movies that you watched last night. Though your serotonin levels were unchanged, you displayed an almost content mood. You smiled a total of two times, which, though a considerably small number, is much more than you have since I have come into contact with you. This is a sign of some improvement; after some consideration I have realized that I should continue to follow this track. I have taken the liberty to download some movies that are designed to allow someone to feel light-hearted, or uplifted."

Hiro stirred, confused. "You…you downloaded— did you—?"

"Fred watched over you from 3:00 a.m., to 4:30 a.m. while I made the proper arrangements," Baymax replied easily.

The boy jerked. "Wait a second, what!?"

He ignored him. "Would you like to watch 'Forest Gump?' Or perhaps you would prefer: 'How To Train Your Dragon?' Or 'The Pursuit of Happyness?' Maybe you would be even happier if you were to watch 'Willy Wonka and the Chocolate Factory.' I also have 'Father of the Bride.' But I also took liberty to download an assortment of superhero movies for you; I did not forget 'Iron Man' either. I have not forgotten that, as of four months ago, it was your favorite movie." Hiro scowled at the words as they made their second appearance. "Gogo assisted me— the movies are located not only on the laptop," he glanced over to the side and sure enough, there was a small tablet on top of the couch, "but Gogo also downloaded them onto a chip for me, so that I could play them for you whenever you would require it."

Hiro stared blandly for at _least_ ten seconds. Then, in a huff, he sighed: "Are you serious?"

Baymax's reply was instantaneous. "I have a range of thirty movies prepared solely for you."

He grimaced. Hung his head and did not look up. "Of course you do."

"Which movie would you like first?" Baymax asked. If Hiro wasn't wiser to the truth, he would have thought that the robot was eager. "I have assorted them in the hopes that they would fit your personality and allow you to feel happier when you watch them. But you are free to choose which one you would like— or you may request new ones. It does not take long for me to—"

"I don't want to watch a movie," he growled, cutting the robot off mid-sentence.

Baymax was not disheartened. "That is alright. I have also taken the liberty of downloading music recommended for those that are disheartened. They are famous for their ability to help the listener's mood lighten. Popular media is commonly the first thing that can lift a person's spirits. And as you reacted well to movies last night, perhaps the same could be said for music— which is a more feasible option from the two. Would you like to listen to a few of them?"

Hiro was losing patience. He hadn't even been awake for more than ten minutes. "No, Baymax, I—"

Too late. Instead of Baymax's voice making yet another irritating appearance, there was a melody instead. Hiro watched with a deadpan expression as the robot's chest lit up brightly with a music note. It didn't say the title of whatever tune that the robot had somehow decided would help. But it didn't need a title; the name popped into Hiro's head as soon as the few words were sung— it was hard not to know it. Regardless of the fact, the boy's expression didn't change. In fact, if it was even possible, he only grew angrier.

_'So no one told you life was gonna be this way. Your job's a joke, you're broke, your love life's DOA. It's like you're always stuck in second gear. When it hasn't been your day, your week, your month or even your year, but I'll be there for you. When the rains starts to pour. I'll be—'_

"Baymax, don't—"

He tilted his head to the side. "Do you not like that one?" he asked.

Hiro propped himself up on his elbow, cringing as he rubbed at his forehead. He was already adopting a splitting headache. "No you just need to—"

He tried again. Unfortunately.

_'I am unwritten, can't read my mind, I'm undefined. I'm just beginning, the pen's in my hand, ending unplanned.' _Hiro was scowling at him by now. Baymax didn't seem to realize. _'Staring at the blank page before you. Open up the dirty window. Let the sun illuminate the words that you could not find. Reaching for something in the distance. So close you can almost taste it. Release your—'_

"Baymax!" Hiro snapped. "You're not helping me!"

"Your serotonin levels are not matching the pattern you had had last night while watching the movies," Baymax noticed. "Those were themed around the holiday of Christmas; perhaps you would be more inclined to have a Christmas song?"

"How about we just don't have _any _son—"

_'You will get a sentimental feeling when you hear voices singing: 'Let's be jolly! Deck the halls with boughs of holly.' Rockin' around the Christmas tree, have a happy holiday. Everyone's dancing merrily in the new old-fashioned way. Rockin' around the—'_

"No Christmas songs!" Hiro yelled.

Baymax stopped. He fell silent, the music note still shining on his chest as he merely took to staring at Hiro. Hiro stared hard right back, his eyes narrowed in a glare as he locked his jaw backwards. He was tired, he was hungry, he felt sick, he felt jittery, and now he was angry and annoyed. He just wanted to curl back up and go to sleep again, but somehow, even he was still exhausted, he also felt a kind of overload of energy. At the same time he wanted to lay down, he wanted to get up and run about five miles, just to get this pent-up feeling out of his legs and arms. It didn't help his patience whatsoever, which was already frayed and worn.

They stared at each other silently for a while. Neither of them spoke.

Then:

_'Hakuna Matata. What a wonderful phrase. Hakuna Matata, ain't no passing craze. It means no worries for the rest of your days. It's our problem-free philosophy. Hakuna Matata! Why, when he was a—'_

"Nope! Nope! No; that's where I draw the line. We're not getting into that. No— you're done. No more." Hiro scowled and threw off his covers, getting up quickly and shoving Baymax aside. In doing so, he got up a bit too fast; a dizzy spell overtook him that caused the boy to stagger and stumble. He was forced to turn aside and prop himself up against the bedside table. Pain flooded his head and centered behind his eyes, causing Hiro to cringe deeply.

"Hiro?" Baymax asked, immediately changing gears as he went closer to the boy. "Hiro are you alright?" When the boy did not reply at first, he asked: "On a scale of one to ten, how would you rate your pain?"

It was ebbing away by now. He blew out a small sigh of air, flinching one last time as he rubbed his temples with a pinched expression. He pushed off of the table, his shoulders drooping. "It's...it's fine now. It passed."

"But you are still in pain. Would you like some medication to help your headache?"

He drew back into himself with a glower. He turned back to the bed, looking over the covers until his eyes were caught on Tadashi's hat. It was laying on one of the pillows that he hadn't used— this time it was untouched. He leaned out and scooped it up, holding the thing in his hands as he studied it carefully. His expression was morose and weighted down. He was silent for a few minutes, perfectly aware of the fact that the robot was still staring his way. The young teenager spoke up after the pause, though his voice was noticeably quieter. "Baymax?"

The robot straightened, tilting his head to the side as he shuffled a little bit closer. "Yes, Hiro?" he asked. There hadn't been many instances where Hiro initiated contact first. Usually the boy just yelled at him to get into the corner farthest from where he was. So the robot's reply was instantaneous.

Hiro paused again. He took a deep breath before asking: "Do you have any…more?"

"I'm afraid I do not understand the question, Hiro."

He grimaced, having already feared the reply. There was a lump in his throat; his heart and chest suddenly felt heavy. "Do you…you know— the video that you showed me last night." He hesitated again and sighed hotly through his nose. Speaking was difficult all of a sudden. He turned and looked anxiously over at Baymax. "Do you have any more of them? Any more…recordings? Or— anything at all." He would take a still photo, or a single frame. Anything but nothing would be absolutely perfect for him.

Baymax stirred with the elaboration. "Of course. I have approximately—"

"Oh no…" It was the faintest of a rasp— it was barely a whisper. But Baymax immediately shut up as soon as the first syllable slipped from Hiro's mouth. The teenager had stilled entirely, looking at Tadashi's hat with a new kind of expression. A look that was akin to horror or dread. His eyes had grown wide and hollow as he looked down at the thing; Baymax could clearly sense that the boy's nerves went into a spike, his heartrate picking up dramatically. But before the robot could make an audible note of the facts, Hiro was speaking again, his voice suddenly rushing in a sense of panic. "No, this is— I— I think I—"

"Hiro, do not panic," Baymax consoled. "You are in no physical danger. Would you like to lay down? I could play soothing music to help you relax. You cannot let yourself become distressed or overworked. Please—"

"T-The picture!" Hiro exploded, whirling around to face the robot. There was urgency written over every crevice of his face, yet all the robot noticed was the way that he staggered upon his turn. He was lightheaded from the sudden spin; after the weeks that he had had so far, moving with such speed could certainly cause him to keel over or faint. The robot started forward, his arms reaching out as if to catch the child, should he succumb to just that. Hiro just rejected his help without a second thought. "I— I might have— I don't— is it in my bag!?"

Baymax blinked slowly. "The contents of your bag include: six pairs of jeans….fourteen pairs of socks…seven—"

Hiro wasn't listening by this point. He turned quickly and rushed off to the side, to where his suitcase was still tossed towards the corner. It was still a mess after he had tugged everything out of it at once. He dropped down to his knees and jerked forward, rifling through the mess – and making it worse in the process – wildly. His eyes flickered every which way. Going by the expression on his face, he was mentally kicking himself for not having x-ray vision. Baymax watched him curiously, mimicking the reply someone would make if they were handed a purely white 2,000 piece puzzle.

"Hiro, if you are searching for narcotics again, I can assure you that—"

"It's _not _that!" The child's voice escalated into a sharp yell faster than he meant it to. He hesitated, his movements falling still. Weakly, a flinch crossed over his features as he ran his hands through his hair. He shook his head and continued on in a grumble, ducking down and continuing to rifle through the stack. "It's not— that's not what I'm looking for. I-I had a picture with me in my— in my other backpack. I think I left it somewhere and that just— I can't lose that picture. I-I need it. I can't…"

Baymax cocked his head to the right. "There is no picture located in your bag, Hiro."

The boy let out a loud whine, though he refused to give up. He continued to scramble through the horde of clothes, as if he could suddenly conjure up the thing he was searching for out of thin air. But he couldn't. The more he searched, the more frustration welled up to burn underneath his skin. He sat back on his heels, hunching his back and pressing his hands hard into his eyes as he felt them begin to prick and sting.

Baymax leaned over, concerned. "Are you alright, Hiro? Is something the matter?"

Hiro bit down on his lower lip, his restlessness suddenly multiplied by ten. His breathing was more erratic and when he spoke again, his voice wavered and shifted in every syllable. "…I want to go outside. Can I go outside?"

He seemed caught off-guard by the question. "I do not see how this related to your worry at the moment," he replied.

"I just…" Hiro paused, cringing. But quickly he tried to backtrack and recover. "I just need to go outside. Maybe some— maybe some fresh air will help. It's just— it's too stuffy in here. I'm going crazy. I just need to get outside; can I— can I go outside? Please?"

The robot was silent for a while. He looked from Hiro to the door. Then: "I am unsure. I have been told that you are unable to leave the home unless otherwise stated by the others. Until they allow you to do so, you are to stay put." Hiro's expression was written over not only in severe disappointment, but also severe anger. Baymax continued to look from him to the exit of the room. He seemed to be mulling something over, and after what seemed like eternity, the robot finally faced Hiro fully. When he spoke again, his voice was calculated and careful. "Would going outside improve your emotional state?"

It was Hiro's turn to stare. But soon enough, the obvious reply came. "Absolutely."

Baymax took in the reply. "…Then I will attempt to make arrangements to try and assist you."

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"Whut?" Fred looked from Baymax to Hiro a little blankly, a piece of toast hanging out of his mouth thanks to how he froze mid-chew. Hiro was glancing fretfully around the room, seeming on-edge and anxious as he shuffled his weight from foot to foot. Baymax, on the other hand, was as still as a statue, only staring expectantly at Fred. But the other seemed a bit too lost to reply properly. He just looked from Baymax to Hiro, his forehead creased over in confusion. "I don't— I don't get the question."

Baymax elaborated on cue. "Hiro has requested that he be allowed outside. He began to grow upset this morning, and then asked whether or not he would be allowed to take a walk and clear his mind. The fresh air would help him, but I have been told that he is not allowed to leave unless otherwise stated by you or somebody else here. Therefore, I have come to ask your permission."

Fred frowned, looking down and swallowing his piece of toast before putting the rest down on the plate. He seemed to be agonizing over his reply, because when he spoke, he was much more reserved than he usually was. "Uh…I'm not sure. The others aren't up yet, maybe I can go and ask them what they think. Because I'm not so sure that this is a really good idea, you know?" He turned and looked over at Hiro with a frown. "I mean, what if we lose track of you? Or what if you get lost or something? You still have that brace on your foot— how do you know you can walk well in the snow?"

Hiro fought the urge to groan out loud. Fred sounded like a mom fussing over their child before they left for the first day of school. He shook his head to try and clear it, coughing to make sure that there wasn't a lump in his throat to clog his voice. "I just want to go outside. I've been in here for forever. I _hate_ it in here." Fred seemed disheartened at this. But the teenager didn't seem to notice it— or at least, if he did, he gave no sign of it. "Baymax can come with me, even. I just want to go out for a change."

Fred still looked dubious. He looked over at Baymax with a frown. "Well…what do you think?"

Hiro scowled, looking away hotly. It was a painful realization to know that his opinion on this issue did not count whatsoever.

Baymax paused. He looked over at Hiro as he contemplated the question. Hiro glanced over at him, finding that suddenly it was very hard not to glower at him in response. The robot picked up the conversation after a pause of consideration. "I believe that going outside may help Hiro. The hormone serotonin is better produced when the body is able to work and function with sunlight. Not to mention the fact that the mere thought of getting outside usually correlates with a better mood. If Hiro believes that taking a walk will help him, then I will have no issue with staying with him."

Fred sighed loudly, torn. "I just—" He looked at Hiro. "I just don't want you running off or anything. You've got to stay here." Hiro gave the other a sour look, and Fred leaned back in his chair, sighing through his nose. "Look, man, I know it sucks. I kind of hate it just as much as you do sometimes. But…unlike you, I know that it's for a good reason, you know? It'll pay off in the end. So I can't let you go outside right now. Not when it's so early. I'm not sure it's right for you to go out now. The first time you've been out of your own room really was yesterday and that was just to watch a few movies."

"But I _did _come out," Hiro objected. "Doesn't that count for anything?"

Fred grimaced uncomfortably. It was clear by the look on his face that this was biting at him just as much as it was Hiro. The teenager noticed this, breathing out slowly through his mouth before adjusting to a much more saddened stare. He was getting desperate by now. He fixed the older boy across from him with a pleading expression, one that he wished would put forth enough persuasion to help sway him to his side. Granted, when Fred replied, his voice was strained. But it was still unchanged in its course. "I know, Hiro, I know. I just…don't want to…"

Hiro's shoulders drooped. His expression turned downcast. "_Please_?" His voice was clenched and uncomfortably tight. "I just need to get out of here. It's not even— it's not even about anything else. I just want to walk around outside for a while. You've got a big backyard, right? I can wander around there for a while; I don't have the need to go anywhere else."

"I…"

"I just want to walk!" Hiro blustered. His voice was getting scratchy because of how much he had been talking. Recently, it was out of the ordinary if he talked for more than a minute at a time, or offered more than a few words at once. He scowled, looking down and running his hand through his hair. His expression was withdrawn, and he made a special effort to try and control his voice when he continued. "I just want to go and walk. That's all I want. Just to walk. Baymax can stay with me— he'll make sure I'm perfectly safe."

Fred glanced at Baymax, going over the aspect. "Uh…here— how about I got with you?"

Hiro blinked, confused. A heavy feeling in his chest, he looked over at the other, unsure. "What?"

Fred was already standing. "I said I'll go with you. I could do for a walk outside, man, that sounds fun." Hiro didn't say anything, just watching him as he rounded the table to go and stand beside them. "I can text the rest of them and tell them where we are. If we're not back in by the time they get up, then they can just find us."

Hiro swallowed this with difficulty, looking torn as he glanced down at the ground and scuffed it with the toe of his shoe. "Yeah." His voice had reverted into a mumble again.

Fred glanced over to the side, down the hall where one of the back doors of the house was. He pursed his lips in thought, contemplating. "I didn't look at the weather this morning. It's probably still pretty cold out there, right? You'd need more than just that jacket." Hiro didn't reply, just looking down at himself with a small frown. He hadn't felt the weather either. The last time he had been outside was the day he had left the hospital, which felt like ages away from now. It had been bitterly cold then, and going by history, it probably wouldn't be much better now. His light jacket wouldn't do much against the snow. Fred brightened as he saw Hiro came to the conclusion himself. "Don't worry— I can get some coats and mittens and stuff. You guys can come along." Going off of Hiro's expression, he quickly revised himself. "Or you can just wait here."

Baymax studied Hiro, judging the boy's nerves and recognizing the way the he was shuffling his feet and rubbing his arms. He was growing tense and jittery. He had shown that he was prone to attacks of panic and anger already— there was a very prominent fear that he could very well succumb to another one. "I will stay close with Hiro while you go and search for the coats. If he would like to stand outside and wait, I can keep him heated there."

Hiro perked, turning and looking from Baymax to Fred.

Fred hesitated. But upon hearing that Baymax would have everything handled, he gave a slow nod. "Yeah, sure. You make sure to stay close with him. I'll go and see whether or not I can find a few good things to wear. I'm pretty sure that there should be some, even if they'll be a little big on Hiro. On the way back I'll see if Honey or someone wants to go out with us." Despite the fact that he had started out weary, it was clear that Fred was quickly growing excited with the idea of going out to do something together. After all, if a few of them went with each other, surely nothing but good could come out of it? "Does that sound awesome?"

"Yeah." Hiro's voice didn't really hold much eagerness to it.

Fred grinned, slowly getting pumped. "Is it _Gucci_?"

"Please don't say that."

"I'll go get the coats!" he chirped, disregarding Hiro's growl as he turned and hurried down the hall.

Hiro watched him go with a sullen expression. He didn't move at first, just staying where he was at Fred hopped away. Once the teenager rounded the corner, Hiro turned and looked over at Baymax, brightening somewhat as he asked: "…Can we go now, then?"

Baymax blinked, looking down at the boy. "Would you rather wait outside?"

His reply was instantaneous. "Yeah. I would."

The robot paused, noticing the quick answer. Abnormally quick almost. But the worry was probably unfounded— Hiro had requested to be able to go outside for the sole purpose of wanting to feel better. His worry from this morning was pushing down on him, and he was most likely just anxious to be rid of the feeling. It was proven that fresh air did much for the overall health of a person— physically as well as mentally. So when he did reply, he pushed aside the slight detail of over-anticipation. "Then of course we can." He paused, then decided to double back. "But I must warn you," Hiro turned at this, "if you are to wander too far away from me, I am required to emit a panic warning to alert the others of your disappearance."

Hiro's forehead creased. He tilted his head to the side. "What accounts as 'too far?'"

"Exactly ten yards and five inches."

Hiro fell silent. He seemed to be mapping out the distance in his mind. Then he shrugged, looking back up at him. "Okay."

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Fred came back into the room about twelve minutes later. He was laden with coats and mittens— he had even taken the liberty of getting together some boots as well. Wasabi was trailing closely behind, also carting some other things as well. Though in contrast to the mess that was currently in Fred's arms, the things that he was holding were neatly folded and organized in accordance to each other.

Once they came into the room, they stopped short, realizing that it was empty. All that was in the space was the dining set. No Baymax and no Hiro. Wasabi grew concerned first, looking over at Fred with worry. "Where'd they go?" he asked. Fred started to reply, but Wasabi was sweeping on before he had the chance. "You should have had them come along to get everything, Fred. Now we have no idea where they are. What if they—?"

"It's fine. Baymax asked if they could wait outside before I left," Fred drawled, rolling his eyes as he turned and started for one of the ways out into the backyard. Wasabi seemed skeptical, but he followed nonetheless. "You've got to start giving a little bit of slack, man. You guys are always so quick to jump to conclusions. Think of how that probably makes the little guy feel, you know? I mean, he probably hates himself already. You guys acting this way towards him is probably just making it all the more worse."

Wasabi made a soft noise of weariness in the back of his throat. "Yeah, but you have to admit that maybe Gogo has a point. I mean— not with the whole blender thing. But…maybe you _are _going too soft on him. I don't think we should be mean, but…we can't expect him to change overnight. Frankly, I'm still waiting for him to do…_something_, you know? So…until then, we can't…treat him the same. Unless he starts showing means of change, then we've got to be firm with him. Or at least…I think we do." He had less of a load, so he adjusted his hold on the items he was carrying, leaning over and opening the door for him and Fred. "It's a situation we've never been in before, so it's hard to know for sure, I guess…"

"Whatever," Fred dismissed in a sigh. "I just think of that old saying…how does it go—'You can lead a horse to water, but you can't make him drink?'" He shrugged lamely. "We can drag Hiro anywhere if we're mean enough. But will he really wanna drink the water if we slapped him all the way there?"

Wasabi was quiet as he thought the question over. Once they got outside and shut the door behind them, he turned and shot a glare Fred's way. "Where did _that _wisdom come from?"

"From my wizened old heart, of course. Where else?" Fred hummed.

Outside, it was covered in snow. Inches of it— it was like a blanket spread out over the entire landscape. The backyard was made up of a number of acres, and though most of it was hidden away underneath snow, it was obvious that it was quite stunning. It somehow made the snow look even better than it usually did. Wasabi spied a fountain over the rise, but it was turned off. A good idea— the water would probably turn to ice the second it was released. It was _freezing _out here.

"Well?" Wasabi looked around, slowly reverting back to his worry and fretting. "There's no one out here." The entryway to this part of the backyard was void of anyone but…well, them. There was no Baymax and there definitely wasn't a Hiro. "Fred?" He looked back at the other, panic leaking into his voice. "Where did they go, Fred? They're not out here."

Fred seemed a tad concerned for a heartbeat. But upon looking down at the ground, he quickly recovered. "Chill out, dude. Look." Wasabi followed his gaze, letting out a puff of air he hadn't realized he'd been holding as he saw what Fred was gesturing to. Footprints. One set the size of a young boy, and the other small, shuffling holes in the snow. "Looks like they just got tired of waiting. If we hurry, then we can catch up to them."

Wasabi was still a little off. But slowly, he nodded. "Yeah…yeah, I guess so."

"C'mon then. Stop your staring and let's go." Fred turned and started to loop away, his eyes trained on the ground as he walked. Wasabi hesitated, still seeming off-put. He glanced from one way to the other, his eyes roving over the yard quickly. His stomach was quickly wriggling itself into knots— something felt wrong. Not…exactly _right_. He huffed and shook his head, trying to clear away the meddlesome thoughts as he turned and hurried after Fred.

It was probably fine. They just went on ahead; it wouldn't take long to catch them again.

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Hiro walked at a brisk pace. Well— brisk to _him_. In his condition, he was much slower than he would have liked to be matching. Mostly it was thanks to his ankle that he was limping; it took about half of his speed away from his gait. Regardless, he kept on. But, geez, was it freeing! Hiro was hugging himself to try and conserve his body temperature, his teeth chattering from the cold. But the uncomfortable feeling left behind from the weather wasn't really his primary focus. Rather, it was the area around him that he was looking carefully at. His eyes were flickering back and forth as he walked, the boy's face taut with hints of concern and thought as he tried to look through the snow around him.

Baymax had been shuffling behind him all this time, never uttering a sound or word. Minutes had gone by – he really should wear a watch or something – in absolute silence. Yet now it was broken. Baymax switched alternatively from looking around at the scenery, to closely observing Hiro. And after a while, he decided to try his hand at conversation. "Do you feel better now that we are outside, Hiro?"

"Mhm." Hiro's reply was flat and absent. He continued to look every which way, obviously distracted.

Baymax turned to him curiously. "Are you alright, Hiro? You seem to be preoccupied with something."

"I'm fine," Hiro grumbled, refusing to look over his shoulder at the robot.

Baymax fell silent. He turned and looked over at the expanse of snow around them. "…The snow looks very pretty, doesn't it, Hiro?"

"I guess."

"Is something the matter?"

"No I'm just…" Hiro suddenly came to a stop, blinking as he looked from one end of the yard to the other. Or at least…the parts that were in his view. The place was so expansive it was hard to see every aspect of it. He glanced over his shoulder, realizing that they had left the house behind a while ago. It was still large and looming even from this far away. But after they had rounded a few corners, they were definitely unable to see where they had come out from. Hiro turned to the other side, his eyes falling on a line of sharply-cut trees. They were so closely-grown together that it was impossible to see what was beyond them. But there was no mistaking the landmark; Hiro had seen those trees before, when he was on the other end of house. They functioned as a sort of fence to block out the road and anything else that was at the front of the mansion. A gate between the back and the front.

"Baymax," Hiro rasped softly, taking a small step backwards. He turned and looked behind them, but came up with nothing. All he saw was snow and trees. Fred was still…somewhere. His heart picked up in his chest, and he turned back to the robot, looking alarmed. "Baymax, you're supposed to stick by me, right?"

Baymax blinked, turning over so that he could look at the boy. His reply came almost as soon as Hiro finished speaking. "Of course, Hiro. You are my patient. I am required to look after you and make sure that you are safe. I am also required to ensure that your emotional state is returned back to normal. It is my job to ensure that you are well, mentally and physically. In doing so, I am to make sure that I am beside you at all times."

Hiro was nodding rapidly, his chest constricted a little bit as he glanced over his shoulder again. "Okay then, then you'd better stick with me, okay?"

Baymax seemed to be becoming wise as to what was happening. "Hiro, please know that you are not allowed to—"

Hiro acted before Baymax could finish. He leaned over and grabbed the robot's arm as tightly as he could, his knuckles bleaching white as he started to tug the walking marshmallow. Before Baymax could do anything, Hiro broke out into a run, carrying himself as fast as his ankle injury would allow as he rushed for the line of trees. Immediately Baymax began to struggle, his legs refusing to move as they dug down into the snow instead. Hiro staggered— Baymax was light, sure, but if this continued on…

"Hiro, you are not allowed to leave the house," Baymax informed calmly. "If you do not stop, I will be forced to call—"

Hiro let go of Baymax, stumbling backwards a little bit. He straightened, already heaving for air just from the short run. The trees were less than a foot away behind him by now. Desperation and barely-concealed nerves were causing Hiro's heart to thud. When he spoke, his words were rushed and breathy. "Baymax, I am leaving right now whether you come with me or not." Frankly he would rather the robot to just stay behind altogether. But if Baymax was true to his word and made that alarm noise – though Hiro had no idea how loud it would be and if anyone would even hear – he couldn't leave him behind. Not to mention that if he dragged Baymax through San Fransokyo with the robot screeching the entire way, he would have even more problems. "If you want to protect me, then you'd _better_ follow me without making any noises. Or I'm gonna leave without you."

Baymax blinked slowly. "You must stay here, Hiro. With your friends, who care for you and your well-being."

Hiro was breathing hard. He shook his head. "I'll come back. I'll come _back_. You've just gotta come with me now, Baymax, _please_." His voice cracked on the last word. He looked over his shoulder, back to where the trees were, so close. Five seconds, he decided. Five more seconds and if Baymax wouldn't come with him, then he was leaving regardless. He would just have to run faster— screw his leg and screw his exhaustion. He had no other choice. They wouldn't leave themselves to get it, they wouldn't understand why it was so important; they would just shrug him off and tell him that there was no point. And even if they were going to accept it and go get it themselves, he wouldn't want them to. Because…well, for a number of reasons. Shame…embarrassment…anger…sorrow…

He had to get it. He had to be the one to get it. They wouldn't let him leave on his own, so he was going to get it anyway. There wasn't an _option _of letting this go.

Five seconds had ended. Hiro growled in the back of his throat, turning around and preparing himself to keep on running. Before he could take off another time though, Baymax started up walking. The robot adopted a quick pace, but considering what speed his 'quick' was considered, it wasn't all that impressive. Still, as Baymax started for the trees, Hiro immediately stiffened in a kind of shock. He didn't leave an opening to feel triumph or happiness – if they would even come in the first place – before he was rushing ahead. He grabbed Baymax's arm again, his grip hard as he picked back up with pulling him along. And after a few tense seconds, the pair burst out of the tree line and down towards the sidewalk.

Hiro wasn't exactly sure on whether or not his directions were foolproof. His thoughts back then were muddled and awkward, in every sense of the words. But it was a moot point. It was all he had to go off of, so he wasn't really in a place to try and question it. Running down to the road, he looked left and right, trying to track the way with his mind. He glanced back at Fred's mansion nervously, already breathing unevenly and feeling lightheaded. And considering he still had a long way to go, he wasn't sure on whether or not this was the greatest decision.

Baymax was concerned as he looked down at the boy. "Hiro, are you sure you—?"

Hiro took off towards the right before he could finish.

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Banging on her door was what woke her up. Honey Lemon jerked awake, her eyes snapping open as panic immediately wrapped around her throat. She sat bolt upright, gasping as she looked over towards the knocking. From the commotion, it had to be more than one person. So what the heck was this about? For a heartbeat she wondered wildly why on earth they didn't just open the door in the first place. But then she admonished herself. She had been changing before she had been going to bed— she must have forgotten to unlock the door once she was done.

Hurriedly, she flew out from underneath her covers, rushing to the door and unlocking it. Her hands were shaking after her sudden wake-up, and against herself, she was piling up all of the different reasons of why this was happening. A fire? She didn't smell smoke. Someone was hurt? Who? It sounded like every single person alive was demanding her attention. She threw open the door, seeing that Fred, Wasabi, and Gogo were all gathered in a close knit in the hall. They looked frantic and worried and Gogo also looked enraged beyond belief. Nobody was hurt. Everyone was here. Except for…

"Hiro are gone!" Fred exclaimed, being the first to do so. "I left them alone for like ten minutes, but when I got back they just disappeared! We followed their tracks in the snow but it ended at the sidewalk and I have no idea where they went from there!"

Honey Lemon was instantly rigid. Her eyes rounded out in horror. "T-They…?"

Wasabi shook his head. "That's the thing! Baymax is gone too! We don't know where the two of them went!"

"Y-You don't…you don't know…?" She sounded like some kind of parrot, just repeating what she heard blindly.

Gogo had her arms crossed over her chest. "We need to go and find them! Hurry up and get dressed! Fred and Wasabi will search one part of town and we've got the other!"

"I-I don't even have to get dressed," Honey fumbled, already shutting the door behind her. "I can go right now. Where do you think he was going? Did he say anything to you? Did _Baymax_?"

Gogo scowled. "I knew just trusting that robot to do the right thing was stupid! He's got no _backbone_!"

Fred was quick to defend Tadashi's creation. "Hey! We have no idea what's happened. He could have—"

Gogo pinched the bridge of her nose. "Fred, I _wouldn't_ if I were you."

Fred's expression soured. He started to say something else, but seemed to think better, closing his mouth and locking his jaw backwards. He looked away hotly, his face tinged a bit red. Honey Lemon looked from one of her friends to the other, looking just as lost and awkward as Wasabi did. But quickly she shoved aside the worry, shaking her head to clear it. "Let's not fight! Not right now! We've got more important things on our hands. If we don't find Hiro soon, he might do something that he'll regret. Or worse— Aunt Cass could find him! Do you know how awful that would be!?"

The others just stared at her. It was obvious that they had already thought of the prospect. Shortly after she snapped this, they formulated a good enough plan. Wasabi and Fred took off in sync, going down to the hall to the exit of the house, where Wasabi's car was parked in the driveway. Gogo and Honey would have to take one of the cars that were parked in the garage— it took them a moment to remember where the room was, but thankfully it was only one. Before too long they turned, rushing down the other end of the hall. Gogo offered to drive, and Honey Lemon wasn't about to put up any kind of a fight. She had seen the girl drive in tough situations. Between the two of them, if they needed to find Hiro fast, Gogo would definitely be the one to take the wheel.

"Where could he have gone?" Honey Lemon puffed, her eyes wide.

Gogo scowled. "I have no idea."

She flashed her friend a worried look. "Gogo…if we find him…please don't get angry with him…"

"Did you notice that you just said 'if?" Gogo asked scathingly, throwing her a pointed look.

Honey Lemon started to say something, trying to figure out a good enough retort. But she couldn't, and after a pause she just closed her mouth and bit it back. She looked ahead instead, quickening her pace as she experienced a harrowing feeling in her chest.

They had to find Hiro _fast_.

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"Hiro, what are you doing?" Baymax asked, watching the boy scan one end of the street and then the other. After running for what felt like ages, they had slowed down to a stop, in the middle of a crowded city street. Hiro was looking in every which way, obviously confused as he turned over in small circles. He was fatigued— that much was clear on his face. He stumbled and tripped every other step, and his limp was growing worse by the minute. Baymax tilted his head to the side, repeating his question when Hiro did not reply. "Hiro, what are you doing?"

They had run all this way from Fred's house. It was taxing to say the least, and now they found themselves somewhere unfamiliar, surrounded on all sides by people going about their daily lives. Some of them threw them odd looks – a ragged boy standing by a walking balloon was certainly a source of concern for most – but nobody had stopped them so far. Even though Hiro looked like he was fit to keel over at any second. When Hiro did not reply to him, Baymax leaned over, reaching out to try and help Hiro keep upright. Hiro, predictably, shrugged him off. The robot hesitated, tilting his head to the side. "Hiro, you are fatigued. You should rest."

He shook his head. "No, I can't! I— I need to remember where…where she…"

"What are you attempting to do, Hiro?" Baymax pressed.

He was heaving for air, his hands pressed on either side of his head now as he continued to scan the area. "I need that…I need to get the picture back. I just…I left it in my backpack and now…it's gotta be…" He grimaced, wracking his brain. He looked down the street, his stomach twisting as he wondered whether or not he remembered that light post as a landmark. He did…didn't he? His brain was running on fumes at the moment, and it was certainly having a hard time remembering back to anything more than a few days ago. The boy cringed, letting out a tense, high-pitched scream. "UGH! I can't _think! _Why can't I even _think_!?"

Baymax studied him closely. "A common side effect of narcotics is a clouded mind, especially when one is going through detox, as you are." Hiro growled, stomping his good foot on the ground as he rubbed at his arms— a painful experience that was slowly becoming habit. Baymax noticed the movement, looking down in concern and trying to move Hiro's hands away. "Hiro, do not do that. You will only cause yourself excess pain. You also run the possibility of ripping your stitches."

"Get off of me," Hiro snarled, waving him away. Blowing out hard through his nose, he decided that it didn't matter that he wasn't sure about the presence of the light post. It was all he had to go off of and he sure as heck wasn't about to just give up because he wasn't _positive. _Not when he had come out all this way.He turned and grabbed hold of Baymax, latching onto his arm and starting to tug him along again, harsher than before now that his nerves were slowly growing frayed.

He headed for the light post, faintly remembering that he should probably go right once he passed it. He could feel a few people glance over at him and his robot as they passed, but he shoved it aside roughly. Just like he was shoving aside the phrases of concern that Baymax was voicing behind him. He didn't even look back over his shoulder. He just kept his eyes straight forward, his jaw locking back as he kept on stubbornly. He ignored the way his legs were shaking and burning. He just kept walking. _Keep walking, keep walking._

He had to keep going. He had to get there before the others caught up to him; because there was no doubt on whether or not they were already on their way by now. He just needed to keep running, no matter how much it hurt and no matter how much his chest burned. He needed to get that picture back. He wasn't going to get it any other way. He just needed to keep running. Keep running…

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"We should check his house," Honey Lemon murmured after a moment, looking fretfully out the window as her eyes combed the city. So far it was just a lot of nothing. Just buildings and people and crowds and…well, not _Hiro_. Not what they were searching for. As the words escaped her lips, she realized how seemingly-problematic the suggestion was. So she was not surprised when Gogo replied, her voice taut and scathing. So far the girl had been focused on the road so far— driving ten miles over the speed limit when the speed limit was already _that_ big of a number has a tendency to take your attention fully.

"Yeah, but what do we _say _if he's not there?" Gogo asked. "'Sorry to bother you Aunt Cass, but we're looking for your nephew; we seem to have lost him. Oh, right you thought that he was in that other program a plane ride away? Well then, we'll just let ourselves out, don't worry about it!' That wouldn't really turn out very well." Honey Lemon bristled a tad, opening her mouth to try and defend herself. But after a moment Gogo backtracked, her voice losing a bit of its sharpness as she sighed instead. "No, we can't do that. Even if we just snuck in there to check around. We haven't seen Aunt Cass since she left him with us, and that's for a good reason. She'll ask questions and we can't handle those right now. We haven't…you know…set up the story that we need to follow with everyone else, you know?"

"I guess so," she relented in reply. She pursed her lips, seeming torn. "I…I guess that Hiro wouldn't really go back to the bakery." Honey Lemon sighed through her nose, wilting even more if such a thing was even possible. She rubbed her forehead with a cringe, sinking lower in her seat. "I just…I thought that last night would be the turn-around. He actually came _out _of his room, and he actually watched a few movies with us. I was starting to think that it was just uphill from here. But now as soon as Fred offered him the smallest bit of slack…"

"I'll be honest; I was kind of expecting something like this to happen," Gogo replied, her eyes narrowed as she took a left turn. "I mean…going by history, Hiro was a wreck before. Ever since we've gotten him back, it's been pretty alright. Or at least better than anticipated." She paused, weighing her words before going on. "Maybe this is the…last straw. Maybe it's one last thing to happen before he realizes that he needs to change. Really make him…you know, face that something is wrong."

Honey Lemon was not reassured. She had been looking out her window, her eyes troubled and clouded in doubt. However upon this, she turned back and looked at Gogo apprehensively. She reached up and tucked a lock of hair behind her ear, the simple movement conveying a mass quantity of worry in itself. "But…but what would be that final thing?" she asked softly. Gogo perked but didn't reply. Pressing on, Honey Lemon asked urgently: "Gogo, what if something terrible happens to him? What if…?"

She couldn't finish the thought.

But it was moot— Gogo still couldn't bring herself to reply.

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"We are not in a good part of town, Hiro," Baymax notified the young boy. They were walking up the steps of an apartment complex, Hiro having to help the robot in order to keep him balanced along the way. Hiro met the words with an irritable huff of air, scowling as he continued to help haul the huge balloon along. They continued up the steps for another thirty seconds before Hiro had to take a break— his third since they had started. He let go of Baymax's arm and sat down on the nearest step, lowering his head and pressing it into his knees as he tried to concentrate on breathing evenly.

Baymax leaned over the child slightly. "Hiro, you have been exerting far too much energy," he told him gently. "You are taking frequent, but small, breaks— you need more rest than you are allowing yourself. It has now been more than an hour since you have left Fred's home. You announced before we left that you aimed to return to the mansion soon. I suggest that we go back now. You cannot go on for much longer, and your health is deteriorating." He paused and shuffled even closer. "You are in need of medicine and somewhere to relax. Please follow me back to—"

"No," Hiro growled flatly. He forced his head to raise again, turning and pushing himself up with a deep flinch. His head spun and he felt the ground waver underneath his feet. But he pushed the facts aside before he could focus too much on them. Instead he just repeated the refusal. "No. I'm— we're almost there." Though he had to admit that he was getting antsier and antsier the closer he got to the apartment he was looking for. Of course, he was also hoping at the same time that the number he had in the back of his mind was the accurate one in the first place. But still…

The last time he had seen her – as fuzzy and weird as it was in the back of his mind – was weighing heavily over him. It was hard not to remember what had transpired. His stomach was tense and wrung into several knots already, and it was only getting tighter and tighter with each step. He hoped that his nerves weren't as apparent to Baymax. But once they rounded the last corner, and once Hiro came to a stop in front of one of the doors, the robot spoke up.

"Is this your desired location, Hiro?" he asked, looking at the boy curiously. Hiro didn't actually say anything in response. But after a second or two, rubbing his arms uncomfortably, he gave a tense nod. Baymax leaned over to try and take Hiro's hands away from his cuts. But again, the boy shook him off, refusing to tear his gaze away from the door in the process of doing so. The robot shrugged off the slap pretty easily, but he was still prone to worry, as was in his code. "Your heart rate is elevated, and your body language shows one of severe apprehension and nervousness. Are you sure that this is your desired location, Hiro? Hiro? …Hiro?"

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Fred was sprint-walking. It was a very awkward kind of talent, and he would be lying if he said that he wasn't painfully aware of the fact that about twelve people had already looked at him weirdly by now. And he knew that Wasabi was struggling to keep up with him by this point. The other had even tried to call him back every now and then, but Fred remained adamant. Driving around in the car wouldn't really get them anywhere. That was too fast and certainly not as investigative as it needed to be. Gogo and Honey Lemon could stick out in the car— he and Wasabi would go on foot.

"Fred, where are you going!? Do you even have an idea!?" Wasabi gasped, struggling to match the other's pace.

"No! If I had an idea on where to go, I would be walking _faster_!"

Wasabi huffed angrily, rushing ahead to catch up with him and better match his stride. "Is that even possible!? Look, Fred, we just need to maybe take a minute to brainstorm!" At this suggestion, Fred slowed, Wasabi panting gratefully once he realized that he could finally take a break. He leaned over, propping himself up against the wall with a frustrated expression. Fred mimicked the look, putting his hands on his hips as he looked expectantly at his friend.

It took a few seconds to recover from the constant rushing, but when he did he let out a low sigh, straightening and shaking his head. "Okay, we can't just be looking around for a specific place that Hiro might be. Obviously he had a place in mind, right?" Fred hesitated and shrugged, unsure of how to answer. Wasabi pressed on. "We can't just be running all over San Franksokyo— that'll take way too long. Let's see…he isn't at home probably. Aunt Cass definitely would have called us by now. He's not at the college; he has no reason to go all the way out there and it probably wouldn't help him at all. You think…" He grimaced a little bit. "You think he went to Tadashi's grave?"

Fred blinked rapidly and perked. "I didn't…I guess I didn't think of that…"

Wasabi was already wriggling his phone out from his pocket. "I'll tell Honey Lemon that they should check it out. Meanwhile, maybe we need to be asking around the…well, you know…_that _crowd."

Fred's nose wrinkled. "Huh?"

He shrugged. "Hiro was missing in the city for a few weeks, right? Obviously he had to be staying somewhere. Or with someone. And judging by all the stuff that he was doing, it wasn't exactly with the 'elite' of the place. So maybe we need to stoop down a few levels. Get all…I don't know— start deducing. Ask around and try to see whether or not we can piece it all together. But you've got to admit: out of all the places to go, why wouldn't he rush to the one that kept him before, right?"

Fred seemed unsure. "Uh…I guess. I mean…the logic isn't _very_ stellar, but…"

Wasabi was putting the phone up to his ear, having already dialed their friend's number. "You've got a better idea, then?"

He paused. Thought for a second. Then shrugged. "No." Wasabi snorted, but Fred, unfettered, just stepped to the side, gesturing out with one arm to indicate the rest of the sidewalk that was still in front of him. Figuring that his time to lead had expired by this point, he declared loudly: "Lead the way then, Sherlock Holmes."

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Hiro knocked on the door exactly two times. In reaching out for the wood, his sleeve was pulled back, and the boy found himself pointedly avoiding looking at his arm yet again. The sight of the bandages never sat well with him; neither did the laminated hospital bracelets that were still strapped to his wrists. He kept forgetting to ask for scissors to cut them off.

At first he thought that she wouldn't answer. But then she did.

She opened the door, and at first they just stared at one another. That's what happens when you aren't sure on what to do or say— you just stare. Silence congested in between them, and for a heartbeat, Hiro pictured her closing the door on him without a single word. But what happened was the opposite. "Hiro!" Redhead chirped, her eyes flooding with recognition after a few initial moments of confusion. She flew forward, Hiro freezing at once as she leaned over to wrap him in a hug. The contact floored him— his eyes grew wide and his heart immediately picked up as blood roared in his ears.

Baymax shuffled a little closer from where he stood behind the boy. "Hiro, your heart rate has exceeded concerning levels. You must calm down."

Redhead jerked in surprise, looking up but now letting go of Hiro. "Whoa— what the heck? What is that thing?"

Hiro was still for a few moments more. He cringed and reached up, half-wriggling, half-pushing himself out of her grasp as he pulled away. "That's…that's…um…." He looked back at Baymax, struggling to sort out an explanation that was halfway decent. And wouldn't make him look stupider than he probably already did. He landed on one after a heartbeat, but it certainly wasn't as great as he hoped it would be. "He's mine." In the attempt to move conversation to something less awkward, he cleared his throat and tried: "So, uh, listen…I…was wondering—"

"Where have you been, man!?" Redhead was talking before he could finish. The girl leaned over and grabbed his arm hard, the boy immediately being flooded in agony as her hands clamped tightly over his injuries. He staggered, just barely holding back a scream of pain as he was pulled over the threshold of the doorway. Baymax immediately followed after, concerned by the sense of shock that seemed to shoot off of the boy. But if Redhead noticed, she certainly didn't show it. She looked like she was bubbling over at the mere sight of the boy. "You went and disappeared on me! I wanted to call you to see what you were up to, but I didn't have a cell number or an address or anything! Don't ya know how worried I was?"

She let go of Hiro's arm, and the teenager grimaced, trying to hold his now-aching arm close to his chest without making it obvious he was doing so. Thankfully Redhead seemed a little bit more than oblivious to…well, everything. Trying to hide the discomfort that was throbbing through him now, Hiro coughed hard, still unable to keep his voice from escalating into a higher pitch when he spoke. "I know; I just…had to…" He didn't know how to finish that sentence, really. His lies were all messed up. He didn't remember what he had told her and what he had decided to keep from her. Saying anything more might be a mistake. He was wracking his brain in order to follow through with a simple conversation. "I had to go away for a while. Is all."

"You didn't get bored of me, did ya?" Redhead asked playfully, leaning over and shoving him in the shoulder.

This earned yet another grimace from Hiro, and Baymax was not about to let this flinch slide. "Hiro, you are in pain. We should not be here. We must leave and go back home. It is the safest way for you to remain physically and mentally stable."

Redhead looked over at Baymax, her forehead creased as she shot him a glare. "He's annoying."

Hiro shifted. His expression was uncomfortable as he looked over at Baymax. The robot had not reacted to the girl's concerns. He was just staring at Hiro, seeming earnest in his efforts to get the boy back to Fred's house. The teenager swallowed, suddenly finding the simple motion difficult. When he replied, his voice was a small whisper, hardly even prominent. "…yeah…" Baymax leaned back slightly, but he did not say anything back to the boy. Hiro shuffled his feet, his hands clenching and unclenching routinely. But he didn't look back at Redhead. He just continued to stare at Baymax, suddenly feeling more confused than anything else.

Redhead stirred him out from his reverie. "Well you're back now! That's _awesome_! You wanna go celebrate?" The boy went stiff, whipping away from Baymax at the question. The robot cocked his head to the side at the abrupt change in the child, and made a mental note of the fact that his pupils immediately dilated. Redhead seemed to grasp some notion of his response as well, as she smirked. "I've got some new things! You're gonna love them, man, I swear!" Hiro opened his mouth, but he couldn't get anything proper out. "You wanna see?"

"Actually…I…" Hiro's mouth felt dry. He shifted his weight from side to side. "I just…I just came because I think I left something here. Something important. And I just— I need it back."

Redhead drew back a little bit, looking almost hurt. "You just came to _get _something?"

Hiro turned, looking around slowly. Had this place always been so tiny? He could hardly breathe in here! It had been bigger, surely! He certainly remembered it being so. And had it always smelled this weird? The couch— the couch had been bigger! He'd slept there; surely it wasn't as puny as it was now. The carpet wasn't as clean as it had looked. The bathroom…he remembered running there in a panic, the first time he had torn at his own arms. And upon looking back at it, Hiro realized with a stab of panic that he couldn't recall the second time he had done it. The time that had lead the bandages to be wrapped over his skin tightly. Why couldn't he remember that!? What else happened that he didn't remember!?

His inner monologue was riddled in panic. But when he spoke, his voice was still flat and expressionless. "Yeah. I just…think I left my bag."

She blinked rapidly, looking confused. "It…I guess it might be somewhere here." She hesitated a second before asking: "Hey, what's wrong? You look completely bummed out. You're acting different." She perked and looked down, catching sight of the things on the boy's wrist. "What are those?" she demanded.

Hiro immediately drew back. "I just need my bag."

She tilted her head to the side, crinkling her nose. "What's your problem? Aren't we friends? What happened to you?"

Hiro looked away, scanning the room. His voice was a mumble. "I just…need my bag." He felt like a broken record.

He reached up to rub his hand through his hair, but as he did, Redhead reached over and stopped his arm short. Her hold was tight, and Hiro fought the urge to cry out again. She leaned forward, her eyes narrowing as she looked closely at the bands around his wrist. "What _are_ these?" she asked, her eyebrows raising as she read the fine print. "Are these…hospital bands!?" She looked up at him in alarm. Hiro tried to search for something to say. But his mind was currently refusing to work. "What, did your aunt put you in some kind of institution!? After she kicked you out of the house!?"

Baymax blinked. "When were you kicked out of the house, Hiro?" he asked.

Hiro's mind was spluttering, like a train that was puffing its way up over a steep hill. He stumbled over himself and his words, unsure of where to put his feet. "I— I just…I was…I got put in a hospital, yeah. I'm still…I'm still in one…kinda…but…not really. I just…need to get my backpack…back…"

"You're in a hospital?" Redhead demanded. She blinked, looking over at Baymax almost accusingly now. "Is that what _this _thing is!? _Seriously_!?"

Baymax raised his hand in a small wave. "I am Baymax. I am Hiro's personal healthcare companion. My job is to ensure that he is both physically and mentally cared for. It is why I am trying to take him home. He needs rest and nourishment. This is not a good place for him to be."

Redhead snorted. She looked back at Hiro. Her hand was still locked around his arm, and the boy was still biting down on his lower lip in the attempt to curb any shouts or cries that could escape him. "Is this for real? Your aunt kicks you out and then she takes you back to pin you up in some kind of stupid prison?" Hiro swallowed hard. He felt his eyes sting uncomfortably, but he knew he couldn't blame the tears solely on the fact that she was holding tightly to his arm still. "What does that thing even know about you? You're perfectly fine! Stay here with me— fuck them! I can see that you're not happy! Apparently your aunt can't do the same!"

Hiro blanked. "I…I was just…"

Redhead scowled. "You can't seriously think that getting followed around by this stupid thing is helping you! _I _helped you! I made you happy when you weren't, right? Stay here." Hiro's throat was swelling fast— suddenly it was impossible to breathe. "Just get rid of that thing and you can just come back! We can go right back to the way it was before. No one knows you're here, right? Except for balloon man over here. He's really creepy, man; let's just pop him or something. I've got a needle."

Hiro looked over at Baymax, finding that his heart was suddenly picking up again at the comment. "N-No…my…my brother made—"

"C'mon! Screw them!" Redhead cheered, smiling now. "It can be just us again!" Hiro blinked rapidly, looking over to the couch that suddenly seemed too small. "Like the good old days!" He could stretch off from the wall and be in the kitchen. The place was suffocating him. "Whatdya say?" He looked at the window that he had thrown his phone from. At the bathroom and the sink that he had bled profusely into. "It's not that hard! I can just—"

"I don't know your name!" Hiro yelled. Redhead blinked, caught off-guard as she fell silent. After a pause, she let go of the boy, her arms falling down to her sides. Silence blocked its way in between them. For a heartbeat they just stared at one another. Because that's what happens when you have no idea what else to do. You just….stare. Hiro's breathing had escalated by now, and he spoke quickly in between gasps, feeling his eyes continue to burn. "I don't know your name! I spent weeks with you and I have no idea what your name is or who you are! When I try to think about the time I spent here, I can't remember anything! It's all a haze and it scares me! You— you scare me! I can't remember much, but…I just…I remember enough. And I can't…I can't _describe _it, and I can't even _communicate _and I don't know what else to do anymore and…" He pressed his hands to each side of his head, shaking it quickly. His voice dropped lower, in a small, pathetic whisper. "I just…I don't even know your name."

Redhead's reply came delayed. "You…you don't even…?"

A full minute of silence passed. After it stretched on, Hiro tried to look back up at her, but immediately regretted it. As soon as his eyes clashed with Redhead's, she reacted. Her arm raised up at her side and before Hiro could react, she had jerked forward. Her hand collided with the side of his face, and the blow of the slap was enough to cause him to stumble backwards. He hit the floor with a thud, and the boy groaned as the entire left side of his face quickly grew red and stung. Baymax rushed forward at once, stooping down and picking Hiro up the moment he hit the floor. "Hiro." Though his voice was unchanged, the robot's movements were rushed as he helped the child regain his balance. "Hiro, on a scale of one to ten, how would you rate your pain?"

Hiro didn't reply. He just turned and looked over at Redhead, his expression weighed down with far too much pain— far too much sorrow. Redhead met his weighted-down stare with one made of fire. Her arms were crossed over her chest, and even as a tear streaked down Hiro's face, she did not waver in her fury at all. She spoke through gritted teeth, spitting out each individual word. Hiro had to force himself not to cringe away purely from the tone of her voice. "Get out," she snapped. Hiro blinked rapidly, not moving at first as he scrubbed at his face instead. When he didn't move immediately, the girl only flared. "I said: get out! I don't want to see you anymore! _Get out of here_! I can't _believe _you! After everything! You're just going to…" She looked too enraged to finish.

After everything…

He couldn't remember a single thing. Let alone _everything_.

Baymax was trying to herd him away. "Hiro, there seems to be a bag directly behind the couch. Would you like me to fetch it for you?"

Hiro didn't reply. He just stared at Redhead, who held his gaze for only a heartbeat or two more. Then the girl's eyes narrowed, her fists clenching at her sides. "Get your stupid bag and get out of here. I thought we were friends— apparently not." She sniffed, shaking her head. "I don't know what's up with you, but now I don't even want to. I just want you gone. Maybe you _should _be in some kind of hospital." Her voice was laced with poison and derision. It almost hurt as much as the slap did.

Hiro's breathing hitched. He tried to reply. But Redhead was walking away before he could.

For a while he just stood there, staring down at the ground as tears leaked down his cheeks. Baymax leaned over. "Hiro? Are you alright?" When he didn't reply, Baymax pressed: "Hiro, what is the matter? Would you like some antibacterial spray for your injury?" This caused Hiro to stiffen all over again. Unsure on what to do, Baymax asked: "One a scale of one to ten, how would you rate your mental state of mind?"

Hiro jerked, his lower lip beginning to tremble as his eyesight wavered in front of him. And age seemed to go by, though surely it was only a few seconds. Softly, he rasped: "…What am I?"

Baymax didn't know what to do for a moment. He walked forward, reaching out and beginning to wrap his arms around the boy as if to hug him. But Hiro slapped him away before he could. Instead he turned and rushed for the couch, finding the bag and dropping down to his knees. He unzipped it in a flash and looked inside, experiencing a rush of relief. The picture…of him and Aunt Cass and Tadashi…it was there. Still broken and messed up. The glass had been ruined long ago— wasn't it the same night that he had been hit by that car? But…no, it was still there. Intact. He sniffed wetly, reaching up and rubbing at his eyes again.

He was about to zip up the bag again and sling it onto his shoulders. He just wanted to leave. He wanted to go back. But before he had the chance to, he suddenly froze, a cold chill settling over him. The picture wasn't the only thing in his bag. Glancing over at Baymax and realizing that the robot was waiting patiently by the door, holding it open for him, Hiro looked back into the bag and reached down. The touch of the bottle was familiar. Too familiar. Reaching inside with his other hand, he twisted off the cap and looked inside. There wasn't a lot left. But…there _was _enough left. About four or five pills in total. He had used that much before…

"Hiro? Are you ready to leave?" Baymax asked.

Hiro didn't reply. He just stared down. Emptily. Unsure.

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"It looks strange," Honey Lemon said after a heartbeat. The two of them were standing among the expanse of stones and hills, shivering in the cold air. Gogo hummed her agreement, though it was small and quiet. Honey Lemon's heart twisted, and she let out a small sigh. Tadashi's gravestone wasn't grand or fancy like some of the ones that they had passed on the way up here. But it was still heart-wrenching to look at.

'Tadashi Hamada. 1994—2014. Friend. Student. Son. Nephew. Brother. Rest In Peace.'

Gogo spoke up, her voice unusually sobered. "Hiro's not here," she reported. Her words were met with silence. It didn't really need a reply.

Honey Lemon winced, looking down at her hands which were clasped in front of her uncomfortably. Her eyes pricked with unshed tears, and she tried her best to keep them from overflowing. She cleared her throat after a minute, shuffling her feet. "I just…I wish that things didn't end up—"

Her cell phone rang, interrupting her. The girl started, nearly jumping out of her skin from the subtle noise. She looked back at Tadashi's gravestone— it was frosted over and half-buried in snow. Against herself, as she wormed her cell phone out of her purse, the girl stooped down and began to brush the ice away as gently as she possibly could. Gogo hesitated for a second, merely watching her. But after a pause she too started forward, kneeling down and wiping away the mess alongside her friend. "Hello?" Honey Lemon greeted into the device, her voice soft.

"…No, no; he's not here. We just checked."

…

"Oh."

Gogo perked at the change in Honey Lemon's voice. The blonde perked, stopping short in her attempt to clean away the snow as she stood up again instead. Sensing that there was about to be a change in plan, Gogo sped up a tad, so that regardless of what they were to do next, the snow would be clear. "Oh, okay," Honey Lemon went on. "I got it. And you're sure?"

…

"Well then, we'll be right over. Just wait for us before you go, okay? We'll hurry."

She hung up, already explaining. "They were asking around. Apparently while Hiro was missing he was staying with someone. Fred thinks that that's our best option in looking now."

Gogo stood up too, having to rip her gaze away from Tadashi's grave. She was anxious to leave, but not at the same time. It was sad to stay here, there was no doubt of that. But leaving suddenly felt a little disheartening. A little…sad. And definitely wrong. "They have an address?"

"Yeah; I'm putting it in my phone now."

Gogo fell silent, watching as Honey Lemon typed furiously into her GPS. She guessed that it was her best bet. After a few seconds, a recorded voice was emitted from the device— a guide. "Proceed to the right. Then, in 1.5 miles, turn right."

Honey Lemon sighed, her shoulders drooping. "Looks like we've got our way."

Still, the pair lingered at their friend's grave. Not even Gogo was willing to break away first. After a second, her shuffling feet crunching in the snow, Honey Lemon asked softly: "…Do you think he'd be doing something like this?" When Gogo said nothing, she turned with a nervous expression. "Or do you think he would be doing something completely different?"

Gogo shrugged. She hesitated. Then: "I dunno. I'm not even sure he would believe how bad this all has gotten…"

Honey Lemon hugged herself tightly. "I wish he was still here…he would know how to help better than we do…"

"Then again…if he was still here, none of this would be happening," Gogo pointed out.

Honey Lemon didn't reply, just continuing to stare in a mournful fashion. She couldn't argue with her friend's logic in the slightest. If only that night had just gone a little bit differently…

"It's a mess," Honey Lemon sighed, her voice weighted down with sorrow.

"We have to fix it," Gogo returned.

"And not just for Hiro," Honey Lemon replied, looking down at the address on her phone, and the directions that were already waiting for them when they finally forced themselves to leave their friend. "For Aunt Cass and Tadashi too."

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It had happened before Baymax could stop it. Nearly all his thought and precautions had been put into this, and yet now…

"Hiro? Hiro have ingested harmful chemicals into your body." Baymax was bent over the young boy, reaching out and trying to help him sit upright. It had happened too fast— one moment they were walking down the sidewalk for Fred's house, and the next, Baymax had been alone. He had been forced to backtrack, having to scan the area in order to find the boy. It had only taken a few minutes at the most, but it apparently had taken him long enough. He had found the boy's hiding spot: behind the dirty-looking apartment building, leaning against the wall. As soon as Baymax saw him, he had realized what had happened. Regardless of how and why, Hiro had taken something. Upon sight of the boy, Baymax watched as Hiro fell to the floor. The robot had rushed forward at once. Now he was struggling to get the boy to respond.

"Hiro, are you in pain?" Baymax asked. Hiro didn't reply. He looked three-fourths asleep; his eyes were foggy and his head lolled as he was moved and shifted. What he had ingested was taking faster hold than normal— with the boy's lack of food and drink and exhausted state, it was not surprising. Scanning him quickly, Baymax reported what he found. "You have taken condensed pills of MDMA. You are under the influence of its effects— can you understand me, Hiro?" Still Hiro didn't react to his speech. The child was blurry and unfocused. Baymax was struggling to track down something effective he could do. But at the moment, since the drugs had already kicked in, there wasn't much left to do but wait it out. Hiro had not overdosed— he knew that much. He could try to make the boy sick in the hopes that in doing so, they could flush out the chemicals from his body. But Hiro was already so malnourished and weak. Excess vomiting would only worsen his condition.

Baymax decided. He sat down on the ground and situated Hiro so that the boy was sitting up and leaning against him. The boy's head drooped to the side limply as he was jostled, like a rag doll's. His eyes were closed, but going by the boy's brain activity, he was still very much awake. But he was like putty— quite unlike himself, he did not react harshly when the robot moved close. He was numb to it, not even reacting, hardly.

Baymax hadn't scanned the bag. Hiro had been in too much risk where he was, and the boy had only mentioned something about a photograph being the focus of their trip. Getting him out of the city and back to Fred's had been the robot's main directive. Besides— in sticking close to him, Baymax ensured that he would be safe.

Until Hiro ran and hid. He had failed to anticipate such a movement. It had not been warned or given away by the child's previous actions.

"Hiro, why did you take them?" Baymax asked softly, not wanting to speak too loud for the boy.

Hiro didn't say anything.

He knew why people took them. The effects – though short – were told to drag people in. Offer them a sort of comfort. At least, that was what his downloaded content told him. "It cannot give you what you want, Hiro," Baymax said. "It did not give it to you then, and it will not now."

Hiro spoke after this; yet his voice was slurred and mumbled, as if he was speaking around a mouthful of cotton. "I'm just sad," he whispered messily. Baymax looked down at him, but did not say anything. He watched as Hiro's numb face began to twist and crumple, the boy's lower lip trembling as he stared distantly off to the side. Tears marked their way down his face, and when he spoke, his voice was a tad louder, if only because his throat was swelling closed again. "I'm…I'm so sad and I can't…" He raised one arm to limply wipe at his face. There was a pathetically-sad ring to his voice. "I can't do it anymore…"

Baymax was silent with this.

Hiro closed his eyes tightly, a flinch creasing over his face. "I'm awful," he slurred, his shoulders shaking with repressed sobs. Still, Baymax did not reply. "Why can't I be more like…?" Hiro did not finish this thought, inhaling sharply before transitioning to something else. His voice was slowly losing its edge, growing weaker almost, as if he was starting to grow even number. Again, Baymax considered flushing the drugs out of his system. But he could not— not unless he wanted to worsen Hiro's already-grave state of health. Hiro's next words were hardly audible. "Why am I such a horrible person?"

"You are not horrible, Hiro," Baymax reassured. "You are intelligent and bright. You have a large amount of potential." Hiro didn't respond to this, but his shoulders still shook up and down. Baymax was silent for a while, merely staring at Hiro intently and making sure that he was alright. After what seemed like ages, he spoke up. "I have failed you."

Hiro stilled a little bit at this.

Baymax went on. "I am supposed to protect you. And look after you. In this I have failed you. …I will not make this same mistake again."

Hiro turned slightly, shivering as he curled a little closer to the robot. Baymax blinked, titling his head to the side and switching on his heat with a bright orange glow. He could not move Hiro to somewhere warmer, but he could offer some comfort to the child for the moment. He needed to keep the child's temperature stable and normal. Once the drugs wore off, he could take him back to Fred's house. But right now he was not inclined to shift or move him. He could get sick again. However, it was a good sign that he was responding to help in a positive manner. Getting frostbite would not help the child.

"You didn't fail," Hiro mumbled loosely, his words coming out in the form of a slow exhale. "You try hard…you're doing a good job…"

Baymax blinked slowly at the unexpected praise.

Hiro cringed, and the robot was aware of a wet sniff as another wave of sadness seemed to slam into the boy. His voice was constrained as he choked out: "He would be proud of you."

He blinked again.

Hiro's face cleared a little bit. His head drooped a little bit and he became distracted. Still awake, just…distracted. Foggy. Baymax still did not move for what felt like the longest time. On the other side of the building, other people milling about could be heard. Their voices, their footsteps. But nobody rounded over to them, which was a relief. Yet the robot's attention was solely for the child. It had to be.

Slowly, he leaned forward, wrapping his arms gently around the boy. Hiro didn't even stir or twitch at the contact. Baymax hunched over and pressed his head down against the boy's own, holding him close as he assured softly: "You will be alright." He raised one of his arms and patted the child's head, doing the most he could to try and reassure him. "There, there."

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A/N: I might go back and edit this chapter over again later. It doesn't sit well with me. Maybe it's just because I know how rushed I felt to get it out to you all before it was too late. If you have any concerns with it, I would love for you to let me know. I could possibly rewrite it Friday night. Or it might be just me being too critical of my work again.

Please let me know how you feel! Something about this chapter just seems a little off to me if I'm being honest…it'd be helpful to hear your feedback whether you liked it or not!


	17. Chapter 17

A/N: Hello! Sorry for the break in updates. I've got quite a lot on plate recently. I've got school work with marching band with three stories at once to update and take care of. In a few days marching band will be over with, but I will still have schoolwork and three other stories to focus on. So, as I've said before, I tend to update stories based on reviews I get per chapter. A sad fact and one that some find slightly irritating and I understand. But it's just the most simplistic thing to do when faced with three stories at a time.

So I do hope that I get feedback for this chapter. It's been a while in the making so I do apologize for that. But I hope that wait is paid off in this new installment!

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It wasn't as if she was avoiding it. It was hard to really 'avoid' something as big as this— or at least, it was hard to do so for an extended amount of time. Usually when it did slip her mind – when it wasn't hovering over her like a dark raincloud obscuring all other possible thought – it was during work. When the hours were busiest, she could forget that her nephew was miles and miles away from her, cold and shivering in the snow, probably hating her for putting him there with every fiber of his being. She could forget everything that was going on and everything that she wasn't capable in controlling.

But at least work was able to alleviate the pain she felt if only slightly. She could focus on waiting tables and making coffee and the occasional socialization. It was just a few days since she had seen Hiro walk away from her, but to Aunt Cass, it felt like an age. And it certainly felt like years since she had seen her little guy smile or laugh. She was trying to hold herself together by the seams, and each day she felt like she lost some grip on the threads. She was trying her best, but…

As soon as the question reached her ears, Aunt Cass went rigid in shock, her eyes rounding out with a sense of surprise. Mrs. Matsuda was staring up at the woman with an earnest expression, apparently unaware that her inquisition had caught the baker somewhat off-guard. At first, Cass didn't do anything at all; she just stared down at the old woman in silence, wracking her brain for a reply that would be somewhat appropriate. But suddenly words seemed to fail her.

Nobody had asked yet. Granted, it had only been a short while, and recently, Hiro had taken to staying up in his room all day anyway. To the other Regulars that would come by every now and then, they probably just assumed he was holed away again. That, or they just didn't want to ask the owner what was really going on, for fear of overstepping certain bounds. Regardless of the reason, though, suddenly Aunt Cass found herself facing the question that, up until now, she had been trying to avoid through her work.

Mrs. Matsuda blinked, tilting her head to the side as she repeated her words. "How is Hiro doing?" she asked kindly, offering the younger woman a smile, though it was slightly awkward thanks to the pause that had sprung up in between the two. When the pause still stretched on, Cass merely staring at her, the old woman pressed again: "I recall that you've been having quite a hard time with him, my dear. How has that situation turned out?"

Cass blinked rapidly, looking down at her notepad, as if she was looking for the answer there. But the only thing that met her there were scribbles that, at the moment, she couldn't make sense of. She should have realized that Mrs. Matsuda would be the first person to ask her what she had been avoiding. After all, whenever the old woman came in recently, Cass would vent in a hushed mumble of anger about what had been happening. How Hiro never talked to her, and when he did, it was to say something smart or scathing in reply. Or how he used to come home late at night without telling her. After she had gotten in a few day's lapse from running her bakery, the woman was sure to be curious. Concerned, too.

She cleared her throat, finding that it was somewhat clogged. Cass forced herself to recover faster, offering her friend a smile that came out rather fragile. "Oh…oh, right. That's…that's right," she laughed out weakly. Looking down at her notepad a second time, she wrote down what the old woman usually purchased whenever she came by. It was always the same thing. Recently that was all that Cass had wanted too: the same thing. "Actually, I…he got on a plane a few days ago. He travelled to…well, there's a program that he's in now."

Mrs. Matsuda raised her eyebrows, surprised. "'A program?'" she repeated. When Cass nodded once in reply, the woman pursed her lips in thought. "Well, for all he was, I'm sure that it would do him some good. All that huffing and puffing and sneaking around— that isn't the Hiro that serves me coffee." Cass wilted slightly at this, yet Mrs. Matsuda just continued. "Now, my son Teito was always such a nervous little child. When he was in school, he was more skittish than a balloon in a box of needles. Always so _stressed_. I would tell him, I would say: 'Teito, you _must _relax.' And he would just cry and whine like you wouldn't _believe_. I had absolutely _no _idea how to handle him."

Cass grinned awkwardly, the expression not reaching her eyes.

Unfortunately, the elder continued. "So finally what I do is I put him inside of one of those…one of those little groups of other kids. It was at his school, you see? They would all sit in a circle together and talk about…talk about their stress and their worries and their schoolwork. And they would help one another. One hour every other day of the week; nothing major. But really, you should have been able to see how much it helped him. Like night and day this kid was! That group _really _helped him; got on top of his schoolwork, he was able to make more friends; he even got himself a _girl_, wouldn't you know it? Now he's a big-shot investor. Got three kids, a beautiful wife, and a dog named Rufus. Not stressed at all. Really, that group did wonders for him. I'm sure Hiro will be the same, my dear."

Cass waited to make sure that the woman was done speaking. When it was pretty clear that she was, the brunette grinned, the expression genuine this time at the hint that she was actually being comforted now. "Well, you see, this program is a little bit different. And, really, I wasn't even the person to find it. His fr—" She frowned, going over the title that almost slipped from her lips. Reluctantly, she backtracked and fixed herself. "It was shown to me by someone else who was looking around. It's this…well, it's this wilderness kind of camping thing. They hike around and sleep outdoors and make their own food…things like that. While, of course, they work things out. You know— talk through mental and emotional problems. Teach the kids how to work through them and handle them."

Mrs. Matsuda perked. "That sounds remarkable!" she exclaimed.

Cass lightened significantly. Her smile stretched from one cheek to the other now, and a certain amount of light was sparking in her eyes. When she went on, her voice was flooded over with more excitement. "Oh, it is! I'm not…I'm not too sure on Hiro's camping skills, you know— we never really did that when he was little. But after everything that happened…well, he had to go somewhere and I just figured that this would be…the most fun kind of place. You know? Something not…drab. Because if it was some other hospital, he just…wouldn't have cooperated."

Mrs. Matsuda smiled. "I see."

"They have a website there— FAQ kind of things, and the list of all the things that they do. Apparently I can write to him soon, if he behaves and works well with what they give him. You can be given the opportunity to have a phone call with them too. I don't think that's for a while though, but can you imagine?" Her beam wavered, and her eyes blurred over as she felt her chest tighten. She cleared her throat and looked down at her papers again, scribbling out a messy line with her pencil absent-mindedly. "Wouldn't that be great?" she mumbled, almost talking to herself with how soft her volume was. "By then…maybe he'll be _happier _and…just more like _himself_?" Her expression softened. "I'll be able to talk with him. Maybe I'll hear his laugh." Mrs. Matsuda watched closely as the woman's lower lip trembled slightly, the shine in her eyes growing more and more apparent. Sighing through her nose, she shook her head. "Sorry— I'm being silly. I just…"

The elder laughed softly. "So you do think that Hiro will get better? That this place will help him?" she asked.

Cass contemplated the question for a heartbeat, continuing to shade her piece of paper over with graphite. It took her a moment to come to her answer. But when she did, she melted even more, an immense amount of love and hope bubbling over the woman. There was a degree of sadness there too— after everything, there would be no chance of shaking that off. But with it was everything she had been trying to tell Hiro was still there— how much she loved him, how much she cared for him, how much she missed him, how much she wanted to hold him and just never let go. It was all still there. Waiting. For when he came back.

Her voice came out in the form of a small whisper, her smile fond and gentle. "Yes," she murmured. "Yes, I think this will help him. He'll get so much better with this. He will."

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"I just…don't…you…and I…what was I…how do you…?" Over and over, the sentences were strung together and suddenly halted. They were never completed— whatever thoughts managed to transform were cut off before they could run their length. Baymax remained silent; the robot was well aware by now that asking for further audible clarification would be useless. However he did keep his eyes trained steadily down to where the boy was hunkered, observing the child's every movement with an elevated level of concern.

Hiro was trembling and shaking violently, despite the fact that Baymax was currently offering him a source of heat. The boy's eyes were distant and foggy; every so often, whenever his grumbling speech died off and he paused, his hands clenched and unclenched in a routine fashion. Baymax's arms were still around him snugly, but as of twenty minutes ago, despite his hold, the boy had adopted the habit of rocking back and forth. The only thing that the robot's embrace did for the child was to help him keep upright— that and the fact that his arm was currently being used as a pillow for Hiro, as his head was drooped awkwardly down to the side.

Hiro was staring blankly at Baymax, though it was obvious that he was not focused or paying attention at all. His mind was elsewhere— wherever the drugs had taken him. Before, when they were in the apartment complex, Hiro's expression had been wrought with severe pain and agony. Now it was almost the opposite; it was muted and blank. He had gone from a large amount of despair, to something akin to apathy. Or at least, it had been that way ever since Baymax had first sat down behind the boy. But that had been quite some time ago. It had been exactly one hour, thirty-one minutes, and fifteen seconds since the full effects of the pills had settled in. Usually the effects of MDMA last from three hours to six. It varied in respect to the user, though with how malnourished, weak, and susceptible the boy was at the moment, it was hard to judge how long the boy would stay underneath the influence.

Again, the prospect of moving Hiro someplace else occurred to Baymax. Taking the child and making back for Fred's house would be the best option— he needed to get Hiro someplace warm and someplace where he could rest possibly. But the child was far too ill to move at this time; Baymax feared that jostling him would lead him to be sick again. And with how little sustenance the teenager was taking in – his last meal had been twenty-four hours ago, and it was not much at all – getting him to expel whatever was inside of him now would just make things all the more worse. But Baymax had taken the liberty to contact his friends some time ago. They would come soon enough and be able to help more. Riding in a car back to Fred's home would take less time, which would mean less jostling for the boy. His stomach might curb, and in his state, he had the chances of complaint or whining. But ultimately it would be the best option in getting him back home.

The robot looked down at Hiro, shifting the arm wrapped around the boy's back so that he could move his hand up to the boy's head. Gently he moved it up and down through his hair, trying to offer solace and comfort in a way that even someone under the effects of drugs could understand. Words...they wouldn't be as clear or coherent. Baymax had attempted to speak with Hiro numerous times up until this point, but if the boy did manage to grasp the concept of speech, he did not reply or react in any fashion. He realized that the effort was moot and just returned to tracking the child's vitals and making sure that they remained steady. There was a much higher rate of brain activity than what the boy usually had, but that was to be expected. Mostly Baymax was just focused on the child's core temperature and his heartbeat. As long as those didn't wary too far off track, they would be fine.

Hiro continued to rock back and forth with jerking, uneven movements. He had fallen silent for a while, and Baymax was starting to wonder whether or not the boy would fall asleep. It would certainly be much easier on the boy if he just slept through the effects of the drugs rather than withstand them consciously. However the thoughts were dashed as Hiro just picked up again, muttering underneath his breath in a whisper. The way he was acting, he looked more crazed under the effects than relaxed by them. "I…I just want to…" Every time he started to speak he would finish his words in a mumble, too quiet to be heard. "I don't mean to…"

Baymax kept on stroking Hiro's hair, trying to quiet him as well as console him. Shifting so that he could rub comforting circles on the boy's back instead, the robot leaned over to rest his head snugly on top of the other's. "Do not fret," the robot hummed gently. Hiro kept on mumbling, as if he hadn't hear in the first place. Regardless, Baymax went on anyway. "It will be okay. Everything will be alright. Do not worry. You will be perfectly fine…"

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"They should be around here somewhere," Fred mumbled, his eyes narrowed as he looked up and down the city street. His hands were on his hips, his beanie pulled down lower than usual on his head. It was clear that he was starting to really regret leaving his coat in the car— if his hat was pulled down any furhter than it already was, he'd be walking blind. Honey Lemon was also having a hard time with the cold— her teeth were chattering together loudly, and she was hugging her jacket as close to herself as it could possibly get. "Baymax contacted everyone, right? Not just me?" He glanced down at his phone as he asked for the clarification.

"Yeah. But we already know where we're going," Wasabi objected, checking his phone with a small frown. "The building should be one of these." He glanced over at Fred, raising his eyebrows. "We asked that guy about where Hiro could be and he pointed us down in this same direction. Gogo should still have it on her phone, shouldn't she? We can just hope that Hiro's still there and hasn't left yet."

Against himself, Fred ducked his head and gave a small sigh. "This would be a whole lot easier if Hiro still had _his_ phone…"

"I doubt it," Gogo replied in a small exhale. "He never answered the phone when he _had it_ in the first place; I don't think he would have a sudden change of heart right now, do you?"

The long-haired teenager started to turn around to reply. But, seeing the change, and already knowing the tension that existed between her two friends, Honey Lemon was quick to take a few steps forward before he could, putting herself in between the pair, her expression weary and tired. "Look, we have no idea what happened. And you guys really shouldn't be fighting about anything until we have the full story, okay? We've just…" She sighed, rubbing her forehead with a grimace as she quickened her pace to head for one of the nearer buildings. "You two have been fighting nonstop recently and you just need to stop!"

Fred and Gogo stiffened, surprised at the sudden change in the girl. Honey Lemon wasn't really ever the one to shout, much less snap at her friends like this. They were confused for a heartbeat or two, going so far as to exchange glances between themselves. But Wasabi was quick to offer help to Honey Lemon before she could falter too much in what she was trying to say. "She's right, you two. You've got to stop poking at each other like you have been. We're trying to help Hiro recover, and I'm no expert, but maybe having you guys fighting all the time doesn't help."

The two glanced once more at each other, seeming caught off-guard by the chastisement. But it couldn't be said that there wasn't truth in the words. Fred looked at Gogo and opened his mouth to say something; but he seemed to rethink the effort and he bit it back before a single syllable could escape. He just looked away, his expression heavy. Gogo sighed silently through his nose, stuffing her hands into the pockets of her jacket as he puffed out her cheeks in a sign of bad temper. But she dropped the subject too, letting the conversation – if it could even be called that – halt right where it had barely had the time to being in the first place.

"Here— this looks like it could be the place," Honey Lemon called out, standing a ways ahead of the group. Everyone snapped to attention with the shout, looking up to where the blonde was stationed. She was standing in front of one of the larger buildings. It wasn't that fancy at all; it wasn't even really that great-looking all around. It was a plain, brick building that looked a little dirty and grimy around its edges. Stairs led up to the entrance, and from the list of tenants on the inside accompanied with call buttons, it could only be assumed that the place was some kind of apartment complex. The blonde turned and looked back at Gogo, her stare earnest. "Gogo? Does it check out?"

The girl looked down at her phone, pursing her lips and looking from the screen to the building in front of them. She seemed slightly hesitant at first, but after looking around and realizing that there really wasn't anyplace else that would fit, she nodded. "Yeah, I guess so. I mean, the GPS says that we reached it, but these places are so close together around here…" She rechecked the address and then seemed to be sure about her stance. "Yeah— yeah, the addresses match up. This is the place."

Honey Lemon brightened a tad, grinning as she tucked a lock of hair behind her ear. "Great! Uh…now…now we just…" The smile dissipated as soon as it arrived. The others caught up to her and she turned on her heel, cocking her head as she surveyed the list of tenants inside. "Uh…those people you talked to didn't tell you anything about _who _he stayed with, did they?" she asked, looking anxiously over at Fred and Wasabi. They shook their heads in sync, and she bit back a huff of frustration. "Right then. So we found the place, but we don't know which room he could be in."

Wasabi sighed slowly, reaching up and running a hand through his hair. "We could just…go room to room?" he suggested.

Gogo scoffed. "And how long is _that _going to take?"

Fred drew himself up. "First one to finds him gets to start opening presents first."

Honey Lemon shot him a look. "Fred, we're not celebrating Christmas yet."

"I never said it had to be today. Just…whenever the Christmas spirit descends upon us."

"M'kay, well that's not up to us," Gogo mused.

"It was just a suggestion…" Fred mumbled dejectedly.

"Guys, shut up," Wasabi interjected suddenly.

Gogo turned and shot him a flinty glare. "Now look who's poking at people," she muttered bitterly.

The other returned the comment with a glare. "Seriously; be quiet for a second." Gog still seemed perturbed, but she relented either way. The entire group fell silent upon request, though Fred sent Wasabi a few odd looks now and again. The other paid no heed, his eyes slightly narrowed as he tilted his head to the side. After nearly a full minute of pause, he turned to the others, his eyebrows raised in an imploring fashion. "Do you guys hear that?" he asked. When nobody replied instantly, too busy trying to figure out what he was implying, he asked again, more urgently: "Do you guys hear that?"

"Hear what?" Gogo asked. She turned, looking around at the cars that were milling down the street, or the people that were walking either which way. "What are we supposed to be listening for?"

"When Baymax contacted you did he say he was _inside _the building?" Wasabi asked.

"He just sent the address we already had," Honey Lemon replied softly. "Why?"

Wasabi listened a heartbeat more. It wasn't long before he nodded once, as if confirming something for himself mentally. "Yeah— they're not inside. You can hear them." He turned on his heel and veered for the backside of the building. The others blanched for a moment, unsure as to what they were supposed to do. Gogo and Honey Lemon looked at one another quizzically, their eyebrows pulling together as they asked one another the same silent question. Fred, on the other hand, seemed to be the complete opposite of the two girls.

He seemed excited, pumped-up as he grinned widely. He all but flung himself off of the steps of the building and rocketed after his friend, having a slight skip in every other step. "Super hearing!?" he exclaimed, rushing after the other like he was a fan. Honey Lemon seemed unsure, glancing back at the apartment building as she debated just going in regardless. But when even Gogo started after the two, she decided that it would be stupid to hang back. Hopping down as well, she paced after the rest, confused and bracing herself for disappointment as she rounded the corner of the building.

Needless to say, disappointment, at least in the means of coming up with nothing, was not the feeling that transpired. Disappointment in them means of being let down by a friend…that…that was a little bit more possible…

Fred's smile and energetic attitude at Wasabi's 'super hearing' was instantly vaporized on the spot. Gogo's shortened temper and pinched look of irritation was gone without a trace. Wasabi didn't even look accomplished over the fact that he had heard the two over the hustle and bustle of the city. Not once they met the sight that waited for them. Though now that they were back behind the building, it was perfectly clear of what Wasabi had heard to get him to double back around the apartment building.

The sound of Hiro's slurred mumbling could be heard clearly now. Baymax was sitting up against the wall, and the small child was nestled deep into the robot's embrace. Baymax was glowing a soft orange— Honey Lemon could feel the heat radiating off of him from where she stood, though she could see Hiro trembling and shaking where he sat limply. Her first thought was that he was hurt; this was a bad part of town…had he gotten mugged? Run over? _Stabbed_? But no— there wasn't any blood at all. No new injuries either, from what she could see.

Fred was rushing forward by the time that Honey Lemon was shaken out of her initial shock. "What happened!?" The blonde stiffened, somewhat surprised by the amount of fear and panic that seemed to be in the boy's tone. Baymax looked up from Hiro, picking his head up off of the boy's own, but his reply was too delayed for Fred. The teenager pressed on, his voice almost angry. "Baymax, what happened?" He dropped down to crouch beside the two of them, anxious as he leaned over to grab at Hiro's shoulder. "Hiro? Hiro? Are you okay little guy?" Hiro didn't reply, his head sagging forward. At first Fred thought he was asleep; the assumption was proven wrong as the boy continued to mumble awkward phrases underneath his breath. "What's going on? Why is he rambling like that!?"

Wasabi whipped his phone out of his pocket, his eyes wide as he looked from the lock screen to Baymax. "Should I…should I call someone?"

"Don't call anyone, genius," Gogo admonished, grabbing Wasabi's phone out of his hands. "You call someone and we get into even more trouble than we might be in now." She turned to look at Baymax, her eyebrows pulling together in a sense of concern. Her eyes flickered down to Hiro; the boy still hadn't reacted to their arrival in the slightest. He just kept talking in a small whisper. "Baymax, what happened? Tell us what's going on."

The robot complied easily now that the activity had died down and he was able to sort through one thing at a time. He looked down at Hiro and blinked, going back to gently patting the boy's head. "Hiro grew upset this morning when he realized that he was missing something from his bag. He asked Fred if he could go out and walk in the fresh air, as he told him that it would help him calm down over his missing item. However before Fred could catch up to us, Hiro started to run. I followed him and he ran all the way down here. He spoke to a girl that I did not know, who requested him to stay with her. He just wanted his book bag that was located in her room."

Gogo crossed her arms over her chest, biting her lower lip now as she looked at Hiro's hunched form. Baymax went on, giving as detailed an account as he could, as was asked of him. "We left the unfamiliar building, but not before Hiro suffered an injury to the side of his face. We did not get very far at all before I realized that Hiro was too far away from me. After turning and tracking him down, I found him here. He has ingested condensed pills of MDMA. He has been under its effects for exactly one hour, fifty-five minutes, and seventeen seconds. I have been sitting with him trying to make him as comfortable as possible until you would arrive. I considered moving him, but doing so would run him at risk of getting sick again."

Honey Lemon looked distressed. "MDMA?" she asked softly. "What's that?"

Baymax perked. "MDMA. Other names include: Snowball, Clarity, Ecstasy—"

Gogo broke him off with a groan, burying her head in her hands with a pained expression.

Fred instantly looked morose, his face falling as he looked down at Hiro. "Aw man…" His shoulders drooped, disappointment and sorrow crowding his gaze. He shook his head, his voice coming out soft and worn-out. "You were starting to do so good, little guy…what happened? You were starting to do so good…"

Silence congested in between the group for a moment. Wasabi looked mournful as he looked down at Hiro; Honey Lemon turned away, rubbing at her forehead as she closed her eyes. Gogo seemed unsure of whether to kick Hiro or kick herself and the entire group. Nobody spoke up for a while— it was like nobody wanted to be the first to break the quiet. But Gogo took initiative after a long pause, stuffing her hands back into the pockets of her jacket. As she spoke, her breath curled up into a cloud in front of her, a detail that she was not about to miss. "Well we can't stay here. He'll just get sick. We need to get back to the house. From there we can figure out what we need to do."

"You must take care in transitioning him," Baymax instructed. "Allow me to hold him; I can provide more balance than any of you could." Fred blinked, having just started to lean forward in order to bundle up the boy into his arms. He looked ready to object at the robot's command and take him anyway. But common sense beat him to it, and the teenager just drew back instead, giving a small nod. Baymax shifted his hold on Hiro so that he could pick him up properly, the boy's mumblings cutting off abruptly as he was moved. Baymax looked at the others, tilting his head to the side. "Do you have a car with you?" he asked.

"Yeah, yeah we've got two," Wasabi answered. "You can probably lay Hiro down in the back. It'll probably be best for him."

Baymax nodded once. Yet when he spoke, it was in slight objection: "I wish to remain with him."

Fred glanced at Wasabi, seeming a bit doubtful. "Uh…I'm not sure you could fit. How about you let the girls take Hiro— they'll put him in the back. And then you can just be in the back of our car?"

Baymax insisted. "I wish to remain with him."

Still Hiro didn't react to anything that was going on. If Fred didn't know any better, he would have assumed that the boy had fallen asleep by now. He wouldn't be surprised really— from what Baymax had reported to them so far, it sounded like sleep was a little bit more than hard to come by for the child. He considered for a heartbeat more, sighing slowly through his nose as he looked back at the others for support. But nobody else seemed to have a very good idea on what their reply should be. Eventually he turned and gave in, not being able to deny this sort of request. "I mean, I guess…as long as you could stay with him without hurting him."

Baymax's reply was instantaneous. "I would never harm Hiro. My purpose is to ensure his safety."

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It didn't take them as long to get home. They had managed to cram Baymax inside the back of Fred's car after the robot let out some of his air. From there he continued to hold Hiro and make sure that he was not jostled or knocked out of his grip. It might have been a little awkward at first, but in the end it was better to be able to know that there was someone still taking care of Hiro. Once they pulled back up to the mansion, everyone piled out of the car and started inside.

Fred managed to persuade Baymax to hand Hiro off so that he could walk him inside. It would give time for Baymax to reinflate and that way they weren't wasting any more time. And, truly, the walk to Hiro's room wouldn't take long anyway. That being said, they got Hiro into bed and under the blankets again by the time that Baymax waddled his way into the room.

That was about an hour ago— now, they were just sitting around waiting for something new to happen. Gogo was sitting in one of the bigger, plush chairs that were available in the room, her legs drawn up to her chest and her chin balanced in place there. Wasabi was pacing near the corner, thinking aloud to himself in whispers. Fred was leaning against the wall opposite of Hiro's bed, watching the boy with a heavy expression as he crossed his arms over his chest. Honey Lemon was seated at the boy's bedside, Baymax standing beside her as the two hovered anxiously over their friend.

Silence had congested the area since they had put Hiro down. Once again, nobody was really sure what to say. Honey Lemon shifted nervously where she sat on the floor, picking at her jeans with a morose expression plastered over her face. She sniffed softly every now and then, having reached up to rub at her eyes about eight times since she had sat down. Eventually she rose her voice into a small mumble, noticing how quiet and abnormally soft her voice was in comparison to what it usually sounded like. "Maybe…maybe we shouldn't all be in here," she whispered.

Gogo perked where she sat a few yards away, but she did not speak up.

Wasabi did, though. "How come? What do you mean?"

She shrugged one shoulder lamely. "I dunno. Just…when he wakes up…he won't like how we're all just staring at him." Hiro had fallen asleep a while ago; it was only safe to assume that when he woke up he would be coherent again. Nobody was really completely sure. She cleared her throat and sniffed again. "I don't know. We just shouldn't be all here. In his room. …He won't like it." Still, her friends just stared at her. She took this moment to look up from her legs, blinking a few times before going on awkwardly. "Maybe…maybe Wasabi and Gogo should leave. Or…something."

"Why?" Honey Lemon exhaled heavily at Gogo's voice, already regretting her bluntness as she sagged backwards. Gogo stood up sharply from the chair she was reclining back in, her expression tight as she turned back to look at her friend. Honey Lemon bit down on her lower lip, averting her eyes as she found herself unable to hold the other's gaze. Gogo paused for a moment, her hands clenching at her sides. Her eyes flashed in between Honey Lemon and Fred, who had pushed himself off of the wall to stand at this point. She gestured in between the two of them with an angered look. "So you two can pet his hair and tell him that everything will be okay?"

"Maybe that's what he needs," Honey Lemon whispered, her voice barely audible now.

"What he _needs _is for you not to water his ego like it's a _plant_," Gogo snapped.

Honey Lemon's face crumpled in on itself. She shook her head, leaning forward and pressing the heels of her hands up underneath her glasses. "Stop, stop!" she blustered, her throat closing in on itself and causing her voice to become more strangled. "That's not what I'm saying, Gogo, and you know it!" She wiped at her eyes, trying to stifle another sniff. "I just want him to be happy, and I have no idea what you're going to say to him when he wakes up!"

She put her hands out in front of her, looking incredulous. "What would I say!?"

Honey Lemon shook her head listlessly. She started to say something but bit it back instead. Either she found that it wouldn't help, or it would just make the girl even angrier towards her. Gogo glared down at her for a few moments more, looking as if she wanted to say something more. In fact, between the two of them, they could probably yell for hours. But it would be pointless. They would get nowhere. Though, then again, were they really making much progress in the first place?

The girl turned on her toe and made for the exit of the room. Her shoulders and posture were stiff— alive with repressed emotion as she wrenched the door open. Wasabi blinked, looking from one person to the other. It was clear by the look on his face that he was a little bit hurt after being signaled out by Honey Lemon. But he was also wiser than Gogo in knowing that fighting back wouldn't make anything better at all. So, flashing a worried look Hiro's way, he turned around and started after Gogo. Trailing after the shorter girl, he was out of the room in less than five seconds.

Fred watched the two of them go. He – as well as Honey Lemon – looked about five years older than he actually was. Looking back at Hiro and not being surprised at the fact that the boy was still oblivious to everything that was going on, he transitioned over to stand at the bedside. From across the bed, Honey Lemon looked up to meet his gaze, seeming deflated and exhausted. She reached up to rub at her eyes in a rough manner, holding back probably her millionth sigh. Desperate to try and help her, the boy offered her a gentle smile he hoped would reach his eyes. "Hey…you— you shouldn't worry. I get what you're trying to do."

Honey Lemon just sniffed and nodded again. She didn't speak.

Fred looked at her anxiously. "Listen…it'll be okay. I know it will. Right?"

She swallowed, closing her eyes and ducking her head. Unable to hold it back any longer, she felt tears well up in her eyes and spill down her cheeks. "What are we doing?" she asked, sniffling as she rubbed her temples painfully. Fred looked on sadly, but did not interrupt her. "We're all falling apart. Why can we not go a few minutes without fighting anymore? I feel like every conversation we have turns into a fight. I don't mean to draw any lines between us or anything but I feel like that's what's happening right now. I hate it." She ducked her head, drawing her fingers through her hair with a small groan. "I hate all of this. If I knew how hard it would be…"

Fred hesitated. Softly, he offered: "Nobody said it would be easy…"

She shook her head. "But it's ruining _everything_." She wiped at her nose with the back of her hand, grimacing deeply. "We started all of this to try and help Hiro get his life back. But I feel like in the process, we're just going to lose some of ours."

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It wasn't long before Hiro woke up. Baymax announced it before anyone else could notice his rousing. Honey Lemon had taken to laying down on the ground, dozing off in the attempt to try and distract herself from fretting any more than she already had. Fred stayed where he was though, continuously keeping close tabs on their sleeping friend.

"He is awake now." Baymax spoke up suddenly, nearly causing Honey Lemon to jump out of her skin. She sat straight up, looking lost and frazzled for a few minutes as she was jarred out of her half-asleep state. Fred perked in surprise, half ready to refute the robot's notion that Hiro was awake yet; he'd been watching him carefully and he hadn't noticed the slightest change in the boy. But, figuring that it probably wasn't his place to argue with the medically-programmed robot, Fred just stood a little straighter, looking at Hiro more carefully. Sure enough, signs of life blinked their way into view after a few sparse seconds. His forehead creased in a sense of discomfort, a small moan wriggling its way out from underneath the blankets.

What would he need? Fred's mind went into a spasm as the boy tried to figure out what he could possibly do from this point on. Would Hiro need water or no? Would he want something to eat, or would food just make everything for him worse? Maybe he just wanted to sleep more— maybe he and Honey Lemon should have left with Gogo and Wasabi. He was probably going to be angry when he saw them; what were they supposed to do? He had been standing by the bed doing nothing but making plans. Now it was like someone had just taken every scrap of thought he had and tossed them into a fire. All he could do was watch them disintegrate on the spot and know that he could do nothing in the attempt to salvage their remains.

Honey Lemon scrambled to her feet and, glancing at the robot, shuffled awkwardly to the side to try and make room for Baymax to reach Hiro. He did so in a few short waddles, stopping only once he was touching the bed's edge. Bending forward a little bit, the robot cocked his head to the side as if in thought. "Hello, Hiro," he greeted. The way he spoke, it was as if he was just bumping into Hiro on the sidewalk, preparing to strike up a conversation about the weather. Hiro didn't react at first, and though Honey Lemon and Fred exchanged nervous looks, Baymax only pressed forward calmly. "Hiro, you are experiencing high levels of nausea. Do you remember what happened?"

Hiro didn't reply. But Honey Lemon saw that he curled up tighter to himself underneath the blankets. The blonde glanced down at her hands, which were wringing nervously in front of her. Sheepishly, almost, she began to speak softly down to the boy, unsure of what she should say. In hindsight, it wasn't required of her to say anything at all— silence would probably be the best bet in this case. Yet the thought came too late to reap her rewards from, so it was pretty much moot. "Hiro…are you okay? Do you feel bad? Is there…is there anything I could get you?" The boy didn't react, and, closing her eyes in a wince briefly, she asked: "Or maybe…is there something you want to _talk _about?"

Hiro didn't say anything still, keeping as silent as a grave. A painful analogy, but one that dreadfully occurred first inside of Honey Lemon's mind in this situation. They hesitated a moment more to leave space open for him to say anything. Or look up even. Really, right now, they would take anything. She would take a grunt if he would just break the silence that was pressing down on them. Fred glanced at her with an anxious expression, just as unsure as her about what they were supposed to do. He took a small pace forward, opening his mouth and readying himself to try his own hand at talking to Hiro.

Before he could, a noise did make itself known from underneath the sheets. Honey Lemon had thought that she was prepared— that she would take absolutely anything over nothing from the child. But her knowledge turned out flawed. What came up from the boy's curled-up form was the most pathetic noise that Honey Lemon had ever witness in the span of her lifetime. Fred seemed to share similar thoughts, jerking back from the boy as if he had been physically burned. All that come from the child at first was a soft, wet sniff, Honey Lemon's heart twisting in agony as she could see that his shoulders quickly began to shake and heave.

Honey Lemon whined softly in the back of her throat. Her eyebrows pulled together, and she bit down hard on her lower lip. Leaning over, she reached out gingerly, her hand shaking as she let it rest down on the boy's shoulder. She could feel how violently the boy was trembling— every small sob that worked its way out of his throat seemed to go up his through his entire body. She looked over at Baymax, desperate as her chest constricted tightly. "Shhh…" Her voice was laden with something to akin to guilt as Hiro's subtle sobbing grew into more of a not-so-subtle thing. She reached up and pulled back the blanket from where it was tucked over his head. "Shhh, shhh, Hiro, please. Please shhh…it's okay. It'll be okay. Please don't cry."

Hiro didn't react, Honey Lemon's heart folding in on itself at the look that was on his face. She shook her head in the attempt to clear it. "Hiro, please. We're not angry, Hiro, we're not angry. We're not angry at all."

Fred tried his hand at helping. "We're just…" He shoved his hands into his pockets. "…disappointed?" he attempted.

Honey Lemon looked up, shooting a harrowing glare his way that immediately stopped him in his tracks.

He didn't try his hand at helping again.

Baymax was hanging back in the scheme of things, and in the back of Honey Lemon's mind, she wondered whether or not that was a good thing. Her hands wouldn't quit shaking, and her voice wasn't much better as she tilted her head to the side, trying to make the boy look up at her. "Hiro, please. Don't…" She grimaced, struggling not to focus too much on Hiro's crying, which didn't seem to have an end. "It's okay. You know? It's all okay. Please don't cry. Please stop crying, Hiro, please…"

Hiro sat up abruptly, surprising Honey Lemon, who jumped slightly. The sharp movement was too much for the young boy, she could tell— even as he sat upright, he wavered back and forth as if he was on a balance beam. Honey Lemon reached out to steady him, but Hiro wasn't paying attention to the girl's hold on his shoulders. He reached up instead, hiding his face in his hands and refusing to look up or meet the girl's gaze. She stared to say something more, but she immediately broke off as Hiro spoke first.

His voice was clenched behind a swelled throat; she had to listen hard in order to hear him properly and separate out the different syllables. "I didn't—" He broke off in a shallow gasp that scraped against his chest. Honey Lemon's face fell, confusion clouding over her face as she tried to figure out what he could possibly be meaning. Had all of the effects of the drugs worn off yet? Maybe he was still under some of them? She thought of asking Baymax, but she didn't have the time to before Hiro was going on.

"I didn't…I didn't mean to," he gasped unevenly, every intake of breath coming out harsh and brittle. "I didn't mean to take them! I just wanted to get the picture— I knew that you wouldn't let me go, I knew that you wouldn't understand!" His words still sounded a little bit more slurred than it normally was. It made her wonder how coherent he actually _was_. At the moment, though, she was more focused on what he was trying to get across. "I just went to go get the picture and you're not going to believe me and you're going to think I just went to get the pills but I didn't I went to get the picture because I realized I didn't have it with me and I needed it!" He heaved, sniffing pathetically. His words were trailing off into a soft whine. "I needed the picture— I needed it. It's one of the only things I have left. I didn't mean to take the pills, I didn't go out to take them. But I just needed that too; I just needed them, I just—"

"Shhh, Hiro, shhh." Honey Lemon glanced over at Fred questioningly, but the other looked just as lost. He just stared, slightly open-mouthed. Hiro sniffed again, dropping his hands to try and cover up his mouth and stifle his sobs. He still refused to look up and meet Honey Lemon's gaze. She sighed through her nose, looking around for a heartbeat or two before settling cautiously down on the edge of the boy's bed. She scooted closer to the boy, bracing herself for the other to shove her away or react in violence or repulsion. He didn't; he just stayed curled away.

The blonde got as close to the child as she felt comfortable in doing. She still kept a hold on his shoulders in case he got off-balance again, or even in case he got sick. She was willing to help steer him from the bed and towards the bathroom if such an instance occurred. Judging by the way he wobbled even as he sat up showed that it wasn't a very big stretch to assume that such a thing could occur. Painstakingly, she struggled to maintain her composure enough to comfort him. "Hiro, it's fine. We're not angry, I told you that. We believe you. Baymax told us about the picture, it's okay. Everything's okay. You've got to calm down, please."

He shook his head as he spoke around his elbow, which caused his words to blend and muffle together. "I can't do this— I don't want to do it. I need more pills, I can't deal with not having them anymore. It felt too good. I just…I hate this. I being sick, I hate being tired, I hate being sad!" His voice began to raise in volume and frustration. Honey Lemon's eyes widened as the boy started to tug and pull against him, and the blonde turned, trying her best to hold him still as he began to thrash. "I hate being blamed for everything and I hate being looked at like I'm stupid and I hate knowing everyone hates me and I hate—"

"Hiro. Hiro! _Hiro_!" Honey Lemon pushed herself the rest of the way onto the bed. She reached over with both arms and pulled the child as close to her as was humanly possible. Hiro still tried to fight and pull, but Honey Lemon closed her eyes tightly, pressing her head down on top of his own and keeping him firmly in place. "Shhh…" He was still rambling, spitting and hissing like a drowned cat. But all that Honey Lemon felt was severe pity, not irritation or frustration. "Hiro, please. You don't mean this. You're just upset. Don't you remember anything? You've got to remember— I know that it hurts. But you can't forget it."

Hiro hung his head, still trying to pull away from the girl's grip. Sobs wracked his chest painfully, his shoulders heaving as if he was getting violently sick. Fred was at a loss of what to do, blinking as he turned and looked over at Baymax to ask for some sort of advice on what his job should be. Surprisingly, the robot was not giving any advice whatsoever. He was completely silent— he was like a spectator for how much he was contributing to the scene in front of them. Honey Lemon was assuming the because of this, she was doing something right. If that was the case, she would probably be the very last to know. To her, she was doing everything wrong.

"You've got to remember Aunt Cass, Hiro," Honey Lemon urged as gently as she possibly could while still being able to be heard over the boy's crying. She paused, waiting for a sign that the teenager had heard her. He gave none, and she figured that he wouldn't. Not at the moment anyway. So she went on, her heart feeling like it had been replaced with a ton of rocks. "Don't you remember how upset she was in the hospital? How she hated seeing you like that every day? If you keep taking those pills, Hiro, you'll just make her sadder and sadder. You're her only family left, Hiro, and she's your only family left. You've got to be there for each other, and that's all that anybody here wants. Is to—"

"_I don't want to do it anymore_!" Honey Lemon screwed her eyes shut tightly, grimacing deeply as the boy all but screeched his next words. He heaved in a shaking breath, tremors lancing themselves up and down his spine. "I don't want to do this anymore I want it to stop! I can't do it!" Honey Lemon continued to try and offer gentle shushes but it went right over the boy's head. "I can't do it by myself! I can't!"

Fred took this opportunity to try and help. More effectively this time. He offered Hiro a strained smile— one that pretty much was wasted considering Hiro refused to look up at them. But it was there nonetheless; maybe more for Fred and Honey's reassurance than for anything else. "You don't have to do it alone, buddy," he tried to soothe. "You've got us! You've got all of us with you and you've got this awesome robot too! We're willing to do anything at all for you, little guy! You shouldn't worry about a single thing! You're not all alone here! Of course not!"

Honey Lemon's lips twitched up in a half-smile. She understood where her friend was coming from, yet she was more than positive that Hiro would not. That, or he would completely shut it from his concerns as he had been doing with Honey Lemon up until this point. And, tragically, her assumption was proven correct when the boy next spoke, his voice a dull whimper by this point. "I can't do it without pills. Please…please just let me have more. More _something. _Please…"

Honey Lemon could feel her heart fracture with the beg. But she had no choice but to remain firm. There was nothing else in the world she could do. Her only other option really was to say yes, and she would never resort to that. All the blonde could picture was Aunt Cass' face when she had first walked into the hospital room. The way that the brunette had looked…so tired and so hopeless and completely exhausted in every way. What was standing in between her awaited happy future and just turning back into…_that_? It was them. The four of them and a robot.

So far they weren't doing a good job at all. But they were her only hope right now, really.

Focusing on that and trying not to pay attention to Hiro's pulls or cries, Honey Lemon kept her voice level and comforting. "You can't have any more, Hiro," she said softly, bundling him up even closer, which she had not thought was even possible. "I'm sorry. You just can't have any more. You've got to stop this— you've got to stop all of it. We're trying to help you stop it. You don't want Aunt Cass to be upset any more, do you? You've got to get better for her. You've got to be strong and I know you can you do it. I believe that you can."

Hiro sucked in another sharp breath, shaking from head to toe.

Honey Lemon hesitated, wondering if she should go this far. But by now she really had no choice. She thought of Gogo's accusing stare. Her friend's words – so mean before – rang in the back of her mind. _'What he _needs_ is for you not to water his ego like it's a _plant_.' _Maybe she was right. Or at least…in some aspects of what she probably meant to say. Taking in a short inhale and speaking before she had the chance to cut herself off or rethink what she was going to say, Honey Lemon started to rub Hiro's shoulder gently. "Do you remember how Aunt Cass was when Tadashi died, Hiro?" she asked softly. Fred jerked to attention, looking over at her and shooting her his own death glower. However, she made a point to avert her eyes. "Do you remember how she was at the funeral? Or when she first got the news that he was dead?"

Hiro didn't reply in words. But Honey Lemon felt his shaking increase considerably. His stifled sobs against his arm got louder, and he tried to pull away again. Honey Lemon kept him rooted, though. She had a point to make, and she was going to make it. "That's how she looked every day in the hospital with you. You might not have seen it, or you just might have pretended not to. But you hurt her, okay?" Her scathing words were a sharp contrast against her voice, which never raised above a small murmur. "And if you continue to do stuff like this you're going to hurt her again— she'll be just like she was then. Is that what you want? Is that what any of us want, Hiro? You and Aunt Cass are _so _close. You can't hurt her like that. She needs you."

Hiro sniffed, tears streaming down his face. Honey Lemon blinked, looking down at the boy's arms and catching a small glimpse of the bandages that were wound underneath the sleeves of his hoodie. She swallowed back a lump in her throat, having to tear her gaze away from the sight and all it hinted at as she turned instead to look over at Fred. Silently, she inclined her head towards the backpack that Baymax had brought it behind everyone else. The thing that supposedly held whatever Hiro had run away to get in the first place. She didn't want to give audible directions for Fred to fetch it, already feeling guilty in disrupting Hiro as much as she was, but thankfully enough her friend got the message anyway.

He stood up from the bed and, throwing glances back at Hiro every once and a while, rushed for the backpack and rifled through its contents a heartbeat or two. It didn't take him long to come back with the thing in tow; oddly enough, up until now, Honey Lemon hadn't even asked what Hiro had wanted to get. All she had heard was that it was a picture. Now, as Fred leaned over and placed the frame in Hiro's lap neatly, the girl seemed to understand more. Looking at the old family photo, her chest caved in on itself, and she found her arms tightening subconsciously around the young boy sitting beside her.

Hiro perked slightly at the picture as it was placed before him. He lowered his arms from his face and, though he still did not look up at either of the friends, it was a small accomplishment in it of itself. Hiro reached down and held the thing gingerly in his hands, as if he were afraid to break it. Honey Lemon noticed that the frame did not have…well, an actual frame anymore. Its glass covering was gone. The detail was small and easily forgotten though, the girl's mind switching to more important things as she heard another sniffle from the fourteen-year-old. Looking at the picture brought a fresh wave of tears to well up in his eyes, and, curling up a little bit tighter to himself, Hiro took one hand off of the edge of the picture and lightly ghosted it over the faces of the family looking back at him.

Honey Lemon watched, waiting to see if anything would spark. Waiting for a change or something akin to it. Is that how this worked? Did something just snap inside of a person and they were completely cured? Somehow she didn't think that was the truth. With someone like this...it couldn't be as easy as snapping a piece of a puzzle into place. And she was right. There was no 'aha' moment. Maybe, the optimistic side of her countered, it would come later. Maybe there was a series of steps to the 'aha' moment, and this was just one of the first. It might be a long climb, but maybe they had made a small progression point of a much larger scale.

She had to tell herself that. Otherwise she would fall apart at the seams right then and there.

The tears leaked down Hiro's face as he traced the picture silently. And that was all there was for a while— silence. And sorrow. That seemed to be a typical now, really. After a while, Honey Lemon noticed that Hiro's arm stilled in its motions; a finger rested lightly on Tadashi's face and remained there, as if suddenly rendered unable to move. He sniffed again, and though it was not nearly the first time she had heard it, Honey Lemon felt her heart break again at the noise. Ducking his chin down a little bit, Hiro closed his eyes tightly, bringing the picture closer to his chest. In a strangled whisper he asked: "Why won't you just give me what I want?"

Honey Lemon shook her head. She felt her own eyes burn over in tears. "Because we just can't," she rasped thickly.

Hiro whimpered. Just as quietly he mumbled: "You're killing me."

Honey Lemon's reply was quick. "You're killing yourself, Hiro."

Everything was still and everything was silent for a while. Honey Lemon was starting to wonder – maybe some part of her even started to hope – that that would be where everything would stop. That this would draw a line as the finishing point. But she wasn't as lucky to be able to have that for herself or for Hiro. After minutes passed, Hiro was unable to remain still or quiet at all. Later on, Baymax would tell her that it was just another sign of withdrawal— heightened because he had just taken pills after being separated from them for an extended period of time. Extended being in regards to him, of course. The boy began to rock back and forth again, like he had been doing outside. His eyes remained closed, and Honey Lemon would have considered him to be asleep would it not be for his incessant speaking.

"Just one more…please, just one more…please, please, please…just one more…" He begged and begged and would not relent. His voice was soft and clenched. His expression resembled someone who was being tortured.

Honey Lemon kept trying her best. She hugged him as close as she possibly could, rubbing his shoulder or sometimes drawing her fingers through his hair, trying to tell him that he was alright— trying to persuade him to stop. "Shhhh…it's okay. Stop; you're fine. You don't need any more," she would whisper every so often, most of the time having to speak over the boy in the first place. She had no idea if he heard her or was listening to what she said. All she knew was that she had to try her best to help him, and if this was her best, then it was what she would do. "You don't need any more, Hiro. You're okay. You're okay. We're okay. Everyone's okay. Remember Aunt Cass, Hiro. You've got to be strong for her. You can do it— I know you can."

They sat like that for hours. Hiro rocking like a crazed person, muttering and pleading underneath his breath. Honey Lemon trying her best to comfort him, whispering gently and holding him close like a mother would do to their son. Fred looking on, not sure how to help, but knowing that he wasn't about to leave. Baymax standing at the bedside, watching the whole scene pass by in complete silence. Hours and hours dragged by like this; Honey Lemon wouldn't even be surprised if it turned out to be the whole night. After a while she stopped caring, though. She wasn't focused as much on 'progression.' Maybe that was where they were going wrong.

Maybe they should stop wishing for progression in the bigger picture.

"Just one more…please…please just let me have one more…"

Maybe they just needed to focus on these smaller moments.

"Shhh. You're okay. You're okay. You're going to be just fine. We've got you. You're okay…"

If she could just get him through this moment, she would be satisfied.

"Please just let me have one more; just one more, just one more…"

If she could pull him out of this in one piece…

"Shhh; no, Hiro, no. You're just fine. You don't need any more, you don't need any more…"

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A/N: Hopefully I'll have time to go over and edit this sometime soon. But please tell me what you think! The more feedback I get the less likely it is to have long gaps in between updates. But I really am curious to know how you like this chapter/what you don't like about it. Like I always say I'm always willing to go back and look over a part!

I hope to hear from you! Thanks for reading! And I hope you're excited for everything that's to come!


	18. Chapter 18

A/N: To help manage my stories that are going on at the same time, I've decided to wait for ten reviews at the minimum before beginning work on the next chapter. So just for future reference, just know that if I haven't updated I'm just waiting for more reviews or tending to my other stories that gain such a number. I'm really sorry to do it, but I don't have any other choice when I get questions every which way from different fanfics asking when I'll update next. I apologize if this poses an inconvenience, but it's the easiest thing for me to do at this point.

And this _doesn't_ indicate any ungratefulness for the reviews I get now! I think this is the first story that I've ever gotten such an influx of well-thought-out reviews that I can read and get such meaningful feedback from! Thank you for those of you that DO review so amazingly! And thank you for your patience!

LAST THING. (Sorry) Second Nature_ is_ an actual organization, but the way it is portrayed in this story _not_ the way it works. I just adopted the name for sentimentality sake— I don't claim to say that this is how it is organized or it functions. Of course, for the convenience of this story, I've had to tinker around QUITE a lot with it. I've actually considered the prospect of changing the name slightly just so future readers who DO know about it won't get angry or cross…what do you guys think?

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She lost track of time. At first Honey Lemon was doing her best to try and set limits on how long she would let…_this_…go on. How long she would let Hiro mindlessly beg in an endless, agonizing cycle. It was hard enough to handle as it first started, and once it was made clear that he would not relent, she knew that it would only get worse if it dragged on. So she told herself that she would only hold him for another ten minutes. Then, once he calmed down, and once he regained control of himself, everything would be fine again. He was just upset, and in partiality, he had some right to be. But just _some_.

Ten minutes and she would slacken her hold on the boy, pull away and force him to look up at her. She wasn't sure exactly what she would say to calm his frayed nerves, but she was determined to do more than just cradle him. In thinking of such plans, she found herself cursing the fact that she had chosen to shoo Gogo away. While she had been right to do initially, right now, her more callous friend would be able to take much more initiative in curbing the younger boy away from…_this._ She would not be as good at doing such a thing, and she was not keen on the thought of asking Fred to take up such a chore either. Ever since Hiro had started to beg, he had gone into almost a form of shock— he just stared down at the fourteen-year-old in a sense of shocked horror. He hadn't moved at all since it began.

She had started out resigning herself to ten minutes. She would hold Hiro close for ten more minutes, and after her allotted time passed, she would put her foot down. 'No, Hiro, pull yourself up. You've got to stop this. Come on. You're alright; we're all fine, so you just need to stop. We're not angry with you, so let's just move past all of this.' At least something akin to that would maybe do the trick; or at the very least, it would set her on the right path. Ten minutes, and she would put an end to his begging.

But it was harder than she anticipated. To see Tadashi's little brother reduced to this…

In the span of time that they had gotten to know each other, they had all gotten close. Or at least, that was what Honey Lemon had thought. They had spent long nights in the garage of the Hamada home, watching Hiro make progress on his invention, or just goofing off during the gaps in time where the boy decided to take a break. Fred and Hiro staged a pizza-eating competition in which Fred had sorely lost, and Hiro even got Gogo to laugh at some stupid pun that he had made up on the spot. Something about a wheel.

They had spent time together and gotten to know one another, and Tadashi's friends had quickly become more than just close to Tadashi as they offered support to the aspiring college student. Going by Hiro's actions and the attitude that he had adopted ever since all of this started, Honey Lemon wasn't sure whether or not he remembered _any_ of that— or whether he thought it to be of even remote importance anymore. But Honey Lemon did. How _could_ she forget? Especially now. So she could not bring herself to be the least bit cruel to him when he was broken down in such a state. All she could remember was how happy he used to be, which would bring forward a fresh wave of frustration to wash over her once she realized that she, or the rest of the group for that matter, was not able to bring him back to that.

Ten minutes turned into fifteen as she found that she could not bring herself to force him away from her. And fifteen melted into twenty-five. Twenty-five into forty. After forty, she stopped counting, realizing that there just wasn't any point. Rather than track down useless numbers, the girl continued to sit on Hiro's bed, holding the small teenager tightly, silent as she felt him shake ever so slightly in her arms. It was all she could do— she had already forced Hiro to listen to her bring up the death of his brother. The thought of pushing even more – of kicking him when he was already down – was enough to make her feel sick. She didn't want to hurt him. She wanted to help him.

At this point…was there even a difference?

Time dragged on. She had no idea how long— an hour, maybe even more. After a portion of it, Hiro had stopped shaking or trying to pull away. His occasional sniffs and soft objections vanished as well. He went completely still, and when Honey Lemon looked down at him in a sense of concern, she was surprised to find that he had fallen asleep again. Without any such thing as a warning yawn, he was unconscious, using the picture frame of his family as a substitute for a pillow. With the way he was hunched over like that, the blonde had to wonder how in the world he could be comfortable enough to pass out like he did.

Honey Lemon turned to look over at Baymax, her face creased over with an anxious frown. "He's asleep," she hissed, her voice so soft she could hardly hear herself. Baymax blinked, turning and looking from Honey Lemon down to Hiro. The blonde bit down on her lower lip, now rendered unable to move for fear of jarring Hiro awake. Even if this was unexpected, maybe it would be better. Once Hiro woke up his mind would be a little clearer; things could sort themselves out and it would be fine from that point on. …Right?

Baymax spoke up after a brief pause. "He was already showing prominent signs of sleep deprivation. After the amount of exertion he experienced today in retrieving his belongings, it is not any cause of concern. He is merely exhausted. Hiro will feel much better after he gives himself the opportunity of rest and relaxation." The robot seemed confident in the conclusion that he drew, and Honey Lemon found herself feeling envious of such a thing. While Baymax seemed to be able to see everything in black-and-white, Honey Lemon felt more like it was blurred and smudged gray. To her, it was a mudded mess, and she had no idea where it even began, let alone where it was going to end.

Honey Lemon turned to look at Fred, and she was relieved to see that he seemed to share her mindset. At least she wasn't alone in her train of thought. He looked just as lost— he didn't appear to be reassured or confident in _anything_. He just looked sad, staring at Hiro as if he was picking out the flowers for his funeral. The confidence and solidarity that Baymax had…Honey Lemon couldn't even begin to fathom what that felt like. But the sorrow, the confusion, the regret that Fred was showing….she knew entirely all too well how that was.

She looked back down to direct her attention to Hiro. He seemed to be way out of it— she wondered whether he would even wake up if someone popped a balloon, or threw a book at a wall. His chest rose and fell deeply, not hindered any more by punctured sobs or sniffs. He seemed relaxed and at peace for once, and his face wasn't pinched or scowled over. He looked…younger. A surprising thought, considering that he was already just fourteen. But that was just the thought that immediately occurred to her. He just looked…younger. Less burdened.

Such an expression on the boy caused a new wave of sadness to wash over her, and the girl sighed through her nose, starting to try and think of what she would say when he woke up again. However, she didn't get the chance to even start crafting her first sentence before she was suddenly jarred out of her inner monologue. A sudden shrieking made itself known, taking the oppressive silence in the room and crushing it entirely. Honey Lemon jerked in shock, her eyes widening to be ten times their original size as she immediately looked down at Hiro in alarm. But, like she presumed in the first place, Hiro didn't even twitch at the loud noise. Not even at her jump, either.

Brushing off her brief lapse of surprise, her head snapped up instead to look for the source of the shrieking. No— no, it wasn't shrieking. It was ringing. As soon as Fred's phone went off, the teenager had leapt to his feet, his eyes bulging as his hand immediately flew to his pocket. He looked down at the Caller ID, and Honey Lemon felt a certain shred of terror at the fact that his expression fazed into a look of panic. She opened her mouth, starting to ask who could be calling, when she remembered herself and snapped her mouth shut. She didn't want to speak; it was already a miracle that Hiro hadn't been woken up by the phone ringing, she wasn't going to chance it by talking.

She tried to send Fred a questioning look, but Fred was already rushing out of the room to answer it. She was only able to watch him go, biting down on her lower lip so hard that she was afraid she might draw blood. Baymax was obviously less concerned about whoever had called; he was more focused on the fact that Hiro would chance to wake up. Thankfully he did not— though the robot's concern was clear as he was practically leaning over him. Honey Lemon had to lean awkwardly to the side in order to save herself from being smushed by him.

Fred rushed out of the room, mentally cursing himself for not having his phone on silent. At the last minute he remembered to turn back and shut the door gently, so that there wouldn't be any loud clang or slam. And then he turned, answering the phone and lifting it up to his ear. Too late, he spun around to press his back to the door, and he realized that he was not alone. Wasabi was leaning on the opposite wall, his arms crossed over his chest as he immediately perked with Fred's exit. Gogo was sitting down a few paces away, her knees pulled up close as she rested her head there snugly. She looked up as well, interest and confusion flooding her gaze at the sight of the frazzled teenager.

As the boy raised his arm, he found himself smiling awkwardly. His voice came out as a small rasp as his eyes flickered between Gogo and Wasabi. "Hey…Cass…" he mumbled, immediately noticing the fact that the two in front of him tensed into attention. Gogo stood up abruptly from where she was standing, her lips pressed into a thin line as she studied Fred as if he were an experiment.

There was a few small noises from the other end. Fred waited tensely for what felt like ten years, though the silence could not have stretched on for more than a few seconds before a reply was given. "Fred— Fred, hi!" Once Cass' voice hit his eardrum, Fred immediately winced away from it. Anyone else would have thought he had been slapped across the face. He started to open his mouth to say something back, but the woman was sweeping on before he could even begin to try. "I-I hope I'm not bothering you; it is the day after Christmas after all…"

"Oh, no; you're not…" He paused, turning and looking back at the room he had just left. His face fell, and his shoulders drooped. His voice was softer as he mumbled: "You're not bothering me, no." He hoped she didn't notice the change, but judging by the response he was given shortly after, she must not have.

"Oh, okay. T-That's good. Well, I, uhm…I hope you had a good Christmas! I was just hoping that I could ask you a few questions…if, you know, if that was alright."

He nodded rapidly, his eyes still wide. "Yeah…yeah, questions. Sure. Anything." Gogo and Wasabi exchanged a glance, looking alarmed now as they inched closer. Fred drew a hand rapidly through his hair, trying to stay calm. He considered moving to put the conversation on speaker phone so that the others could hear as well. But he was too worried about waking Hiro up through the door; at the same time, it would still be running that chance that Cass would notice the fact that she had been put on speaker too. Fred wasn't sure he would even be able to handle her preliminary questions— if any were added on, he might explode. "Ask, uh…ask away. Sure."

"Thank you!" Cass sounded immensely relieved. Fred was starting to wonder whether or not he would _ever_ be able to feel something like that again. "So, I was going back over Second Nature's website, again, and I just wanted to know a few things…" Fred closed his eyes tightly, his forehead creasing as he gritted his teeth. If he didn't have any more self-control, he would be snapping his phone in half right on the spot. He still might, actually. It certainly was a temptation.

Controlling himself, he sighed silently through his nose before he said: "Yeah, yeah, go ahead." He turned and gestured wildly to Wasabi, raising his eyebrows imploringly. When Wasabi only stared at him oddly, Fred turned and reached out with his free hand, wrenching it into the other's pocket so that he could pull out another phone. Balancing his own phone next to his ear, he used the other as quickly as he could, typing in a rapid-fire fashion in order to search up the organization in question. He had to seem well-versed on everything related to the place, and right now, he was probably as fluent as Cass was. He could give himself away in less than two minutes. "I'm all ears."

There was a small pause thankfully, as Fred got the page to load. Once again, he was met with that webpage of scenic views and smiling kids. Looking at the kids that were beaming and grinning at the camera, Fred was shaken with a sense of deep sadness. Could that be Hiro, if they had managed to pull the right strings to land him there? Probably not— after all, this was only his third or fourth day here, wasn't it? He wouldn't be grinning and laughing by now even if he was far away in a place like this. But…would he at least be _better_? He certainly wouldn't have relapsed like he did when he was here. He would have better people looking over him. People that actually knew what they were doing.

Frustration slammed into him like a punch to the gut. _Why couldn't Dad have answered his phone!?_

Cass started to speak again, and Fred had to force himself out of his thoughts. No— there was no point in worrying about that now. It was a pretty much moot ordeal. "So, I read that after a certain amount of time, I can write a letter to Hiro?" Fred's throat swelled at this and he blinked rapidly, his heart freezing in his chest as he just resorted to staring blankly at the screen. In the back of his mind, some bitter part of himself chastised him for even getting up the website in the first place. He was still pretty much screwed, whether he had this thing to look at or not. "And it said that after a while, Hiro can send me letters too— is…is that right?"

_Letters. Letters, letters, letters. I didn't think ahead far enough for the letters. Crap! _Fred found himself grinning widely— if Cass could see him right now, she would know without a doubt that he was scrambling for something he could say. Wasabi was catching onto it surely— his expression was growing more and more apprehensive and anxious by the second as he watched his friend struggle to even talk. Gogo looked a cross between frightened and angered. She motioned to Fred for him to put it on speaker-phone, mouthing him the order silently. But Fred only shook his head in response; he wasn't going to take any more of a risk than he was currently. By this point he was really beginning to drown in it.

"Letters," Fred echoed, pressing Wasabi's phone against his forehead with a grimace. Eventually, thankfully not too much longer after, he perked and cleared his throat, starting to nod rapidly. He had to go with it— it was all he could do at this point. Frankly, he was wanting to kick himself for not having thought this far. He was surprised one of the more organized ones of the groups didn't approach this issue either. "No, no, that's right. I was meaning to talk to you about that. It's just been so…you know…"

Cass was quick to speak after this. "Oh, I know, Fred, I know. I-I don't want you to think that you have to…I know what it's like right now. I almost didn't want to ask you of this just because I was already so grateful for everything you've done so far…" Fred flinched away from the high praise, feeling like the worst person in the world as he sighed through his nose. Cass could not hear the huff, as she went on. "But…it's just…I've been wondering all day and all night, and I haven't gotten any sleep, and I was just trying to…lighten the load…if I could…"

"No, that's alright. Yeah, I can tell you about the letters; of course." Wasabi's eyes widened, and Gogo went rigid in shock. Fred put a finger to his lips, shushing them before they could try to break into the conversation. Instead he just straightened, forcing himself to brighten as he pushed more of an upbeat tone in his voice. "I mostly gave them my email for contact to begin with. Mostly I was just worried that we had done something wrong with the down payment, so I wanted to be able to be reached if there _was _something I had to fix. So right now they probably only have my email and stuff." He spoke carefully; he couldn't be _too _slow, but he did have to be cautious in what he chose to say. He had to be able to remember what he said, too, just in case he was forced to bring it back up later. "I gave them your information, of course. Just…not your email or anything. All they have is your address."

He grimaced. It wasn't good enough; the excuse wasn't good enough. She would see right through him— although he hadn't even gotten as far to see how to even start to file Hiro down for enrollment in the program, surely there had to be some kind of specific page to file down information on an actual guardian? And wouldn't email be kind of important in that tab? Or…maybe not? Maybe the organization just assumed— why would someone pay all that money if they weren't somehow connected to the person in need? But still…he just had no idea.

…Did Cass?

He spoke again before she could. And, against himself, he was forced to take a page out from Hiro's recent book of behavior. "They don't have your email, and if you mailed them your letter it might take too long. I guess I didn't…think that far ahead," he mumbled, on-edge now, despite the fact that he was attempting to sound anything but. "Everything back then was so…jumbled— it's was kind of hard to think straight." He hesitated and let a pause hang in between them for a moment. The teenager felt yet another stroke of guilt lash at him, but at the same time, he could register the fact that, on the other end, Cass was growing slightly weaker. His voice was quieter as he said: "I could go back and contact them again to give them your email so you can send your letters that way. It might…it might take a few more calls and more paperwork, but I can make it so that you can contact them too…"

"No! No, it's…" Fred fought the urge to tear his own hair out at the tone in her voice. She sounded strained— tired and at a loss of what to do any more. He could hear the weak smile in her voice, and he was forced to remember the way that she looked at Tadashi's funeral and at Hiro's hospital bedside. "I can't ask you for anything more…you've done so much." She paused for a moment, as if thinking. Fred glanced at Wasabi and Gogo, his stomach clenched with nerves. "I just…wanted to know whether or not it was possible for me to hear from him. Get updates on what he's doing. Send….send letters…" Another pause. This one was longer— it seemed like neither of them knew what to say. Then: "But no. I just…I can't ask you to go back and fix something like that. Not after you arranged everything, and not after you paid for it all….you've been such a help, and asking you for anything more is just…"

He was taking advantage of her— and with such a _flimsy_ lie. If she wasn't so upset at this point, just so full of relief and thankfulness for what he had done for her so far…would she be able to see right through this? Would she look at everything he said to her and promised her with a more skeptical eye? She would be much more prone to demanding what she wanted, rather than giving away so easily. Right now, she would take anything at all, as long as she was reassured that Hiro was being helped— that was why it had been so easy to take after Hiro, and manipulate her in the smallest of tweaks. But how long would this haze last? How long would it be before Cass wanted _proof_ of something rather than just a simple promise or pledge? A few more days…a week or two…she would have a clearer head. She would question this. She wouldn't take all of this blindly— not at all.

The stable ice they were standing on was melting quicker than they could drag Hiro to solid ground. What if it broke underneath them before they could make it?

There was another pause on the other line, yet for some reason this burst of quiet did not sit well with Fred. It had more tension in it, and it caused Fred's stomach to flip. Was she already beginning to wonder? Maybe not clearly, but in the very back of her mind, did she know something seemed slightly out of place? It wouldn't be that hard to. Sensing the hesitation, Fred made a quick jump to try and reconcile the issue as best he could. Better than he'd _been _doing, at least. "Here's what you can do. You can email me the letter you want to send and I can forward it to them. That way you can send your letters and get updates from him. Doesn't…doesn't that sound good enough?"

There was another hesitation on the other end of the line. Fred's breath caught in his throat at the very notion of the pause, and he wondered whether or not this was the end of…well, pretty much everything. Hiro had relapsed, the entire group was fighting, and now Aunt Cass was going to ask: 'Well…why can't you just send me their email address and I can explain myself?' It was a completely warranted question, and one that Fred would not have an answer for if she asked it. He could feel it coming, like it was a dark shadow, growing bigger and longer with each passing second.

Fred realized with a stab of surprise that he was holding his breath, waiting for the reply. Gradually, it came. "Alright. Yeah…yes, that'll be fine. As long as—"

"I promise I won't read anything. I'll just send it through," Fred broke in, anxiously hoping that it would be enough.

_Please let it somehow be enough…_

"And—"

"I can send everything else too. Yeah— everything. It's no problem."

Another pause. There was getting to be too many. _Don't ask, don't ask, don't ask. _

'Why can't I just send an email myself?' It was such a simple question to ask, and it would be the final nail in the coffin. Was it going to come, or no?

No. "Alright." Cass was too nice for that. Too sweet, too loving, too…swayable. But for how long? _How long!? _"That'll be okay. Can I…can I start working on one now? And…send it to you later, I guess?"

Fred closed his eyes, feeling a rush of relief come over him in a tidal wave. He shouldn't be able to feel this; any other person, and he would have been caught in the act of lying. Any other person other than poor, confused, Aunt Cass. With that sense of relief, came a sense of severe self-loathing and anger. They were angry at Hiro for lying and going behind his aunt's back, and here they were doing the exact same thing. And not even well, he might add.

He shook himself and wrenched his mind away from such thoughts. Instead he cleared his throat with a cough again, and once again pumped artificial happiness into his tone. "Yeah, sure. I can probably get around to sending it to them. If I send it to them, then they'll know who to give it to. Without…you know, getting proof and stuff." With another jolt he realized that he was laying it on much too thick. Before Cass had the chance to ask any follow-up questions, or before she could notice his skittish manner of reassurance, he changed topics on the dime. "Oh! Drat. Uh— I heard the stove beeping. I made some brownies for later; was that the only question you had…or…?"

"Oh, uh…" Again— too many pauses. "No." Fred's shoulders sagged with this. "No, that's fine. As long as you can make it work this way. I suppose…I suppose that's good enough."

"Yeah, it should work."

"Good." A bit of the brightness leaked back into Cass' voice as she added: "Thank you again, Fred. I don't know what I would have done without you. Really. You and everyone else." He nodded once, but did not offer any kind of audible reply. "Thank the others for me, will you? Whenever you get the chance. And maybe you all could come over for dinner some night. I could cook something nice for you all."

"That sounds great," Fred said, though he knew that such a thing would just cause more problems. "Alright, well, I've got to go, Cass. But I'll be sure to pass on the message." Cass returned the goodbye in a gentle mumble, and Fred wasted no time before hanging up and stuffing his phone away. He shoved Wasabi's back over to him as well, his friend still looking alarmed as he too put the mobile into his pocket. The two were silent at first, just watching as Fred ducked his head, running his hands through his hair with a sour scowl. Again, he felt no sense of triumph or pleasure at what he had just managed to pull off. All he felt was disgust and hot frustration.

Wasabi spoke up, sounding almost apologetic. "We should have thought ahead more…"

"Did she swallow it?" Gogo asked, tense as she studied her friend closely.

Fred shook his head. His voice was thin as he grumbled: "Barely. And not for long."

"But we bought some more time!" Wasabi was obviously struggling to reassure his friend. "Don't worry. We'll figure something out." He looked from Gogo to Fred, pausing for a long moment and waiting for a reply. Neither of them offered up anything of the sort, and, his voice noticeably weaker, he tried again. "We've got to believe that things will be fine. If we don't believe it, how are we supposed to make Hiro believe it?" Still, nobody agreed. Fred stared down at the floor, and Gogo continued to just look on, her arms crossed over her chest in a tight manner. Wasabi frowned, clenching and unclenching his hands at his sides by this point. "…You know?" he pressed, practically begging for an answer. "It'll work out, right? …Right?"

Fred turned on his heel, his teeth grinding together as anger burned through his veins. And the bad part was, he couldn't direct the anger at a single thing, either. He was angry at himself for lying, he was angry at his dad for not answering his phone and being able to help send Hiro where he had _needed _to go in the first place; he was angry at Aunt Cass for asking questions, and he was angry at Hiro for not being able to get better. He was angry at himself for having all these selfish reasons. He was angry at Tadashi for…for…for having…

Before Fred could stop and calm himself down— before he could corral back into a stable emotion, he squeezed his eyes shut and cocked his arm back into a sharp angle. Wasabi began to object, reaching out as if to stop his friend before he did anything stupid. But he was too late. Fred threw his arm forward, curling his hand into a tight fist right before it made contact with the wall. A loud thud commenced from the wall once he made contact, as well as a more painful one that came from his hand. Pain immediately wrapped around his hand as it immediately became inflamed and red. It pulsated and throbbed as he let it swing back down to his side.

Looking down, he saw that his fingers were still slightly curled. Bent over still in pain. Blistered and ruined.

Look back up, he almost felt a flash of disappointment.

The wall didn't even have a scratch on it.

(•-•)(•-•)(•-•)(•-•)(•-•)(•-•)(•-•)(•-•)(•-•)(•-•)(•-•)(•-•)(•-•)(•-•)(•-•)(•-•)(•-•)(•-•)(•-•)

Honey Lemon had eventually decided her staying near Hiro wasn't needed. She turned and gingerly lowered Hiro down on the bed rather than on her lap, moving the picture frame and placing it on the bedside table instead. She didn't tuck him in – she wasn't _that _confident in her ability to move him without waking him up – but she did make sure that his head was in his pillow where it should be. She had looked anxiously at Baymax, who replied with a nod, and then she had left the room silently, making sure that she wouldn't wake him up in her leave.

After that, nobody really knew what to do. They lingered somewhere close around Hiro's room, just in case, and they made the resolution together as a group to see whether or not Hiro would emerge out for dinner. But when the time came, and when they went to check on him, he was either curled up and away from them, or he was still asleep. They decided to eat without him and that's what they did. Currently, they were all sitting down, stabbing half-heartedly at their food, trying to find something to say that would be appropriate.

Honey Lemon had started to maybe talk about school and certain classes, but she stopped herself before she could even begin. Saying such a thing would bring up the question of what they would do soon when classes picked up again. Wasabi was going to volunteer to go out and do something to get their minds clear, when he remembered himself and why such a thing would be impossible. Gogo was going to ask when they would celebrate Christmas, when she had the realization that it all depended on Hiro and his state, and they were at a loss on when they could begin to celebrate.

Fred was sitting opposite of Wasabi, looking forlorn as he stirred his plate of spaghetti with disinterest. His hand was wrapped in gauze, still looking red near the edges of the binding. It was beginning to gradually bruise as well; it was likely that the more time passed, the worse it would look. As for the more painful, that still had yet to be determined. But he did not offer any kind of help to the lack of conversation. For him, the others had to wonder if he even noticed in the first place.

Honey Lemon cleared her throat, a little awkwardly as she grimaced. "So uh…did Aunt Cass send her letter yet?" she asked, her voice bright as she turned to look at Fred. She had been caught up on the situation once she left the room, and though it was disheartening at first to hear, she was more on Wasabi's side— maybe with this, they could coast a bit more. It was always a worry for them when it came to wondering whether or not Aunt Cass would find something to ask. Maybe it was a form of relief that she had finally done it. At least they could stop dreading it. Or…_some _of it.

Fred's voice was a heavy sigh as he replied. "No, not yet."

Honey Lemon nodded. She started to say something else, but decided that it would be a pointless venture. She looked down instead, resigning herself back into silence as she prodded at her own plate of food. Gogo chewed on the inside of her cheek, looking on-edge as she looked from one person to the other. After about two more minutes of tension she announced: "Fred said she wasn't all that convinced." Honey Lemon blinked rapidly, but did not dare to raise her head even an inch. Wasabi did have the guts to look up, but it was done so with a nervous, off-set expression. Fred closed his eyes and ducked his head, pressing his hand against his forehead with a flinch. When nobody responded, Gogo braced herself enough to continue. "We have to plan on what do to. It might not be now…because she's still in shock. But pretty soon we're going to be like a window to her— she'll be able to see straight through us."

"You don't know that…" Wasabi murmured. Though his voice very clearly lacked any resolution.

Against her better judgement, Honey Lemon tried to support her friend as best she could. "It's only the fourth day he's been here. He may get better…"

"It's almost been a week, and all that's happened is he's gotten angry, he hasn't come out of his room, he escaped, and he took more pills." Surprisingly, Gogo's voice was not heated or spiked in anger. For once she sounded tired. She hadn't appeared as much before now; even when they had found Hiro and everyone else grew disheartened, she was still as clipped and business-like as ever. Unworried about what they were to face, and concerned instead with the future— with getting things done. Now she seemed the opposite. "We're not doing any good. And it's not like we'll get better at this."

Honey Lemon grimaced. She suddenly felt awkward and uncomfortable. It was like sitting in a group of people who continuously bashed a person who you used to know. Did you stand up for that person, just because you used to know them? Or did you sit back and watch, because your relationship with them had ended? "I don't know…" she whispered, looking down and rubbing her eyes. "Maybe he can come around. We just…it takes _time_." She looked up now, her expression desperate. "We didn't think it would be easy, right? And I know it's hard— I told Fred today in Hiro's room that it was hard." She looked over at Fred with this, but he still didn't react. "But it wouldn't be simple— we knew that going in. It's just…this is what we need to do. It's what's needed."

Wasabi flashed Honey Lemon a grateful look. Under the stare, Honey Lemon fell still, registering for the first time how weird this was. Before now, it had been Gogo and Wasabi against Honey Lemon and Fred. The latter two being the ones enforcing this need for Hiro to stay. Now…Fred was completely silent. He wasn't even looking at them as they talked. "It'll probably just take a while to sink in. I think with Baymax, you know…it can kind of remind him of…"

Gogo looked down at her plate with a heavy look. "Baymax _does _remind him of Tadashi. And Hiro _hates_ him. It's painful to watch them interact, even." She shook her head with pursed lips. "I just don't think it's going to get better. We're not going to fix anything the way we've been going about this; not to mention we can't get a single thing done without fighting." She sighed and shook her head. "I think we should just cut our losses. If we do it now, as opposed to a few _weeks_ from now, maybe Cass will let us off a bit easier."

"Where would we put him? A hospital?" Wasabi demanded.

Gogo shrugged. "It would help him more than this is. Right now he's just either sleeping or sitting around feeling sorry for himself. We can't force him out, and Baymax isn't a good substation for Tadashi." Honey Lemon perked, starting to open her mouth to object to this. But she didn't have enough confidence to, and looked back down at the table instead. "I thought this might work too, you know? But it's not. And it won't." Honey Lemon's eyes flickered back up to Wasabi, the girl looking absolutely miserable. Wasabi looked deflated as well. Yet if Gogo noticed, she didn't make any point to show the fact. "Hiro will understand why we sent him to a hospital when his head is clearer. They just…have so much more than we do. If he stays here, he'll just get worse. Staying in his room all the time— he's going to get away with things. Hurting himself, finding other means of…I don't know— _something_." She shook her head, at a loss of a proper terms.

There was a burst of silence. Nobody spoke. Gogo mumbled: "We should just…stop. Start looking up hospitals again. Or just send him to that one place that Fred already found."

Honey Lemon looked over at Fred, waiting expectantly for him to speak up against this. He would fight this one, surely. Did he forget how crazy it was? How many rules there were and how much Hiro would despise a place like that? Was he really just going to sit back and not say a single thing now? She didn't believe such a thing could happen, and so she was astonished when he didn't react. He didn't even twitch. Growing apprehensive, and realizing where things were going, she turned and looked over at Gogo, her eyes round. "You mean…that's it? One slip-up and we're throwing in the towel?"

Gogo shrugged, showing her hands to surrender. "I mean…we just need to put him somewhere he'll get better the fastest. Not only for the sake of him, but also for Aunt Cass' sake too. And…that's just not here. Maybe it could work in time, but we don't have time."

"Time is all we _do _have!" Wasabi objected.

"You know that's not true," Gogo objected in a sigh.

"So that's it, then," Honey Lemon all but growled. She looked up from her plate, her lips were pressed together tightly, her eyes beginning to spark with anger. Gogo looked over at her, still looking worn-out. It was Honey Lemon's turn to get angry now, it seemed. And the blonde was surely prepared to take the role wholeheartedly. Her jaw locked backwards, and her hands clenched into fists in her lap. Gogo didn't respond, so she went on hotly. "Gogo, are you really prepared to tell that to him?" Still, there was no reply. She bit down on her lower lip, her eyes narrowed angrily. After a moment she said adamantly: "I'm not giving up on him. I don't want to."

"It's not giving up on him. It's doing what's best. And you can't object to that logic," Gogo replied.

Wasabi looked away, holding his head up glumly with his hand. Honey Lemon blanched, her mouth halfway open as she tried to figure out what she could say. But all of her resolutions had been used up and shot down. They were just…_giving up _on a friend. On their _best friend's _brother. And so easily too. After just four days…how _awful _were they? He needed them. And yet…if even one of them was resolutely against this, then it would be impossible to continue. And going by Fred's lack of interjection, it could only be supposed that he was suddenly against things as well.

She started to say something, when Fred beat her to it. His voice was a small mutter, and he still didn't look up from the plate either, but he had everyone's attention at once as their heads snapped over to him. "I knew that it would take lying to her. To Aunt Cass, I mean," he said lowly, out of the corner of his mouth. "But…I knew that it would be for a good reason." Honey Lemon blinked, her face falling as the anger started to ebb slowly from her eyes. "Now…there's no point in lying to just…stay like this."

Frustration bubbled in the back of her throat. "It's only been four days," she pressed desperately. "It just…it just take more _time_. Just give him more time!"

Fred's voice stayed subdued. "I agree with Gogo, now, Honey Lemon. If it's going to be like this, we can't keep it up. Hiro's showing no signs of improvement." He turned now to look at her, and she was unnerved at how sorrowful he seemed. "You didn't hear her today. She sounded so…sad. And upset. And when I told her that I would handle it, she was so grateful. Relieved." He shook his head, looking down and stabbing his spaghetti angrily. "She asked for me to _thank everyone_. For _everything we've done._ It made me feel like _complete crap._" His tone was unusually brittle and sharp. "We just…if we were doing better, I would say don't worry about it. I would be able to handle all of this if there was a light at the end of the tunnel. But we just can't keep this up. We can't keep lying and fooling Aunt Cass if there's no point in doing that. She deserves better— she's been lied to too much."

The blonde deflated. She looked away, hunching over slightly. Wasabi couldn't try and argue either. Both of them were resigned it seemed. There was no use in fighting if they were to be continuously shot down, and there was no use trying to help Hiro more this way if Fred and Gogo were both set against them. Fred seemed apologetic— or at least his eyes seemed weighted down in a sense of remorse. But he eventually just looked back down at his plate, flexing his injured hand, which caused the teenager to cringe deeply.

Ignoring the sorrowful look on Honey Lemon's face, and the crestfallen expression on Wasabi's, Fred just shook his head again. He stirred the noodles in his plate, seeming to have little to no intention of actually eating any of them. His voice was listless now as he sighed: "It's just…we just can't keep doing this." Silence hung itself over them like a blanket. It was purely suffocating. Whether it was to comfort himself, or just to break the silence, Fred repeated himself softly. "Not if there's no point." Honey Lemon's eyes flicker over to him. She bit down hard on her lower lip, but could not say anything.

Gogo stared at Fred for a few moments before giving a small nod of agreement.

Wasabi just closed his eyes with a sigh, looking miserable.

Fred mumbled yet again, as if he was desperate to persuade the others. Or himself. "We can't keep doing this."

But if he was looking for some sort of reassurance or support, then he was sorely mistaken.

None came.

(•-•)(•-•)(•-•)(•-•)(•-•)(•-•)(•-•)(•-•)(•-•)(•-•)(•-•)(•-•)(•-•)(•-•)(•-•)(•-•)(•-•)(•-•)(•-•)

The house was dark when Hiro opened his eyes again. The dimness was the first thing that he was really able to register at first. Laying down on his side in the oversized bed, every other sense of awareness came down to him in a slow, crawling fashion. He registered the fact that he was cold— the blankets hadn't been tucked over him, and his body shook as a shiver went down his spine. Next he could feel the dull pain seated in his ankle, and the exhaustion that still weighed over him, despite the fact that he had just rested. And then he could feel the throbbing in his head, the sickness in his stomach. Aftereffects that seemed like the worst that he had experienced ever.

He squeezed his eyes shut tightly, curling into himself as he flinched. Such an action proved to be a mistake, however, as his movement alerted Baymax to the fact that he was now awake. The robot, standing presently at the boy's bedside like always, perked and immediately broke the silence of the bedroom. "Hiro, you have been asleep for approximately five hours and twenty-eight minutes. You are experiencing high levels of nausea and pain. Would you like me to help you? I could offer you a drink of water. Or perhaps you would prefer me to apply to a cold pressure to your forehead?"

Hiro shook his head silently, feeling hot and cold at the same time. He pushed himself up slowly, his arms shaking and trembling from the minimal effort. His stomach heaved at the movement, and a small whine escaped his throat as he managed to sit up. Baymax tilted his head to the side, as if concerned. "Hiro, do you feel as if you are going to be sick? Would you like me to take you to the bathroom?"

He had never felt this _awful_. He pressed his hands to his head, his breathing shaky and uneven as he rasped: "Don't touch me." He tried to breathe through the pain and sickness, struggling to get it under control or at least _less _erratic. But the effort and attention that it took in order to attempt the feat was too much. Before Hiro could allow himself time to hesitate or stop himself, the boy turned and jerked off the bed, stumbling as he hit the ground and nearly keeling over entirely. Holding his stomach as if he was trying to keep himself together, he staggered to the bathroom, barely reaching it before he was seized by the ill sensation.

He practically fell down in front of the toilet and proceeded to get violently ill. It did not last long. There wasn't much in his stomach to begin with, as he had only eaten a few crackers in the past four days. Unable to expel enough from his stomach to make him feel better, Hiro was left sagging listlessly on the ground, still wrapped in a sickened sensation. Normally getting sick would at least lead him to feel a little better— somehow cleaner or more stable. Now he was the opposite. All that was earned was a foul taste in his mouth and his head to pulsate even more. A cold sweat as beading at his forehead, and his vision shook back and forth, the tiles underneath him seeming to tremble like leaves in the wind.

Baymax was standing in the doorway, though in Hiro's disoriented vision, he was more of a white blob that anything else. After letting Hiro have a moment of silence, he began to speak. "Hiro, on a scale of one to ten, how would you rate your pain?" The child closed his eyes tightly drawing his knees up to himself and putting his head down with a groan. Baymax blinked and turned decisively, waddling back to the large bed and fetching something for the boy. He came back in less than thirty seconds, holding something small in his hands. Bending down low, he offered it to Hiro. "Will this help to alleviate your emotional stress?"

Hiro looked up, his expression blank as he looked at the hat that Baymax held. He blinked slowly, looking from his brother's hat to the robot that was holding it. His eyes flashed, and something in his expression seemed to change as he looked back and forth. After nearly a full minute of this, Hiro finally reached out and grabbed the cloth, taking it in his hands and pulling it close to his chest briefly. He closed his eyes, breathing haphazardly through the knots in his stomach and the waves of pain centered in his head.

Again, Baymax leaned over the boy. His right hand began to blow a soft blue color, and he leaned over, attempting to rest it on the boy's head gently. "Hiro, if you will allow me to, you will feel much better if I am permitted to apply cold pressure to your forehead." Hiro didn't react, staying hunched over the hat instead. Baymax took initiative and pressed his glowing hand to the back of the boy's neck instead, knowing that it would take the same effect. Gently, the robot offered: "It is alright, Hiro. Vomiting is merely a side effect. Eating the proper foods and taking the right amount of rest will help your body to recover, in time."

Hiro didn't react at first. He kept his face hidden and tucked away, remaining unmoving.

Baymax tilted his head to the side. "Hiro, you really must go lay back down. It will help your nausea to curb, and once you are rested, you may be able to eat and take in the proper nutrients your body is craving." When silence still reigned in the bathroom, the robot pressed: "Hiro? Would you like me to take you back to your bed? You are in need of rest; I assure you that if you relax, you will begin to feel much better."

Hiro still did not move, though a soft, sad noise came up from his hunkered form.

Baymax blinked slowly. "Hiro?"

The boy mumbled out something, his voice barely audible as he did not look up. "Can you…help me up?" he asked in a mutter. Baymax seemed to snap to attention at the fact that Hiro did finally respond. And he was more than pleased to comply with any of the boy's wishes as he bent low and helped the boy to stand. Hiro was wobbly— the way that he balanced awkwardly resembled a baby deer who stood up for the first time only to realize their legs were much weaker and longer than they first thought. He eventually did manage to get himself steady, though his head still spun, and his eyesight remained muddled and smeared.

Hiro took his hands away from Baymax once he was settled, taking a moment to stare numbly down at the hat in his hands before reaching up and pulling it down over his head. He turned and shrugged past Baymax, his steps small and measured as he turned to head in the direction of the door rather than the bed. Baymax seemed puzzled, turning and waddling after Hiro obediently, however he did say: "Hiro, where are you going? That is not the way to the bed."

Hiro did not look back. He just went to the door, opening it up with the smallest of creaks. He hesitated before exiting the room, pausing so that he could look left and right, for anybody that was still loitering the halls. Surprisingly, there was nobody there. The halls were empty and dark— just as dark as his room was. He grimaced, stepping gingerly into the hall and turning to go down to the right. Baymax followed, puzzled as he said: "Hiro— where are you going? You should not be exerting yourself even more than you already have."

"It's fine," he mumbled, starting down the hall, still taking those miniscule steps.

Baymax hurried closer. "Hiro, I am not about to let you leave this house again. You are to stay here; I will not permit you to exhaust yourself a second time." Hiro didn't reply, still walking. Baymax was now keeping up less than an inch behind the child. At the silence, Baymax struggled to find something that would fit in this particular situation. "What do you think you will find out in the city, Hiro?" he asked eventually, noticing that the boy didn't even glance over his shoulder at the inquiry. "You did not find anything of happiness before; what makes you think you can find anything now? Nothing has changed."

Hiro shook his head and finally spoke up, though his voice was a small grumble. "I'm not leaving," he sighed listlessly. "I'm just going to the kitchen."

Baymax blinked. "Are you hungry, Hiro?" he asked. The boy had not had a proper meal in days. Was he finally coming around? Anxious to reinforce the new craving, the robot declared: "I could make you something, Hiro. I'm sure you will feel much better after you eat."

The boy didn't reply.

It took them a total of ten or fifteen minutes to get to the kitchen. Hiro was walking so slow that Baymax could have outpaced him if the robot truly desired. That, coupled with the fact that Hiro had a hard time remembering how to get to the kitchen, even if he had just been there the day before, the whole trip took much longer than it should have. Finally getting into the kitchen, Baymax wasted no time in listing off food items that he could prepare in a short amount of time. Hiro wasn't listening, instead he was looking around the room with a subdued expression, obviously removed from the situation. Whatever Baymax was saying went through one ear and out the other.

Baymax remained still as Hiro began walking again. He was preoccupied with his mulling over healthy and appropriate things to eat to do much of anything else. Though he did keep a watchful eye on Hiro as the boy made for a set of drawers. He continued to run down his list as Hiro started to rummage through the drawers. It wasn't until a few minutes later that Baymax realized Hiro was not paying any mind to the robot. Breaking off for a heartbeat to watch the boy silently, Baymax did eventually cave. Shifting to look at the child curiously he asked: "Hiro? Why did you want to come down here? You seem to be disinterested in the prospect of food."

Hiro didn't reply, just going from drawer to drawer and looking more and more frustrated after each one. In a rush, he took Tadashi's hat off of his head, placing it down somewhere on the counter in his scavenging to fetch whatever it is he needed.

Baymax started over to the boy, thoroughly perplexed by his actions. "Hiro?"

The boy finally seemed to find what he wanted as he fell still. There was a hesitation before he leaned over, grabbing something out of the drawer and drawing it out. Baymax blinked at the object, stopping in his tracks immediately, still about two or three feet from the boy. Hiro turned and faced the robot, still clenching the thing in his grip but refusing to say anything. Baymax looked from the thing in Hiro's hand, to the boy himself. Then, his voice just as calm as ever, he asked: "What are you doing with that, Hiro?"

The boy's hands were shaking as they gripped the knife, and for a heartbeat he didn't reply. Baymax wondered if he was even able to get a single syllable out with the way he was trembling. But eventually he did manage to get his voice to work. "Don't stop me." It was an order, not a request. Some kind of authority kindled itself in the boy's tone, though Baymax had been instructed not to bend to such a thing when presented by Hiro. Still, the robot remained silent and unmoving, as if he was actually unsure of what to do. He only looked from the sharp blade to Hiro. He did not say anything. Hiro's eyes hardened, and his jaw locked backwards. On-edge, he added: "I'm done. I'm not…I'm not doing it anymore." The authority was quickly leaking out of his voice, to be replace with that sorrowful exhaustion. "I don't want to."

Baymax tilted his head to the side. "You do not want to get better?" he asked, as if for clarification.

Hiro scowled, taking a small step backwards to increase the distance between him and Baymax. "There's nothing to fix," he snapped. His voice was acidic, and his glare was even more so. His eyes seemed to gleam and shine in the dimness of the room, and Baymax registered the fact that his heartrate spiked unnaturally. "Nobody here _gets _it," he all but snarled. "The only way anything can be _fixed,_ is if Tadashi is able to come back; and that's _impossible_. Nothing can go back to the way it used to be." Baymax stayed silent, just staring at the boy blankly. More and more tears were welling at his eyes, and he reached up with one hand to rub at them roughly. His voice was splintered when he moved on to whisper harshly: "There's only been one thing that's helped me so far, and you've taken that away from me. You can pretend all you want, but you're _not _my friend. You're the _opposite_."

Baymax started to advance on the boy. His voice was quiet as he said: "Hiro, please give me the knife."

Immediately, Hiro skittered backwards, jerking forward as his arms shot forward from his sides. His other hand flew over to grip the hilt of the knife as well, the boy extending it forward like a weapon. Baymax stopped short at the look of the point that was now pointed threateningly towards him. Fumbling over his words, Hiro all but spat: "Keep back! I-I'll pop you! Don't get any closer!"

Baymax cocked his head to the right, looking back at the boy carefully. His breathing was irregular now, and his heartrate was getting faster and faster. His expression was quickly overcome with nervousness, his anger only a lingering haze in the back of his eyes. Baymax tried to take another step forward, and Hiro reacted sharply, his arms jerking again as he extended the knife further. The blade shook and trembled in unsteady hands, yet he kept it bared forward regardless. Baymax was forced to take a step backwards to avoid being punctured or slashed. The robot did not look away from the point, but he did speak. "Why are you doing this, Hiro?"

Hiro swallowed thickly, his eyes narrowing as tears blurred his vision. "You wouldn't understand. None of you do. That's why this is all so _stupid_. It won't fix anything. I don't even _want _anything to be fixed. I just want…I just want…" He blanched, unable to finish his thought.

Baymax's voice was steady as he asked: "What do you want, Hiro?"

"_I don't know_!" he all but screeched.

Baymax leaned backwards slightly at the sharp rise in volume. His attention went down to Hiro's arms; previously covered up, as he reached forward, his sleeves were pulled back enough to show the start of the bandages that were tightly tied around his arms. Baymax had changed them the day before, in order to keep the wounds clean. Looking pointedly down at the gauze on his arms, Baymax asked softly: "Why do you continue to try and hurt yourself?"

Hiro's reply was instantaneous. "It's the only thing I _can _do, now."

Baymax looked up from the boy's arms. "Hiro, please put the knife down."

Hiro gritted his teeth, his throat clogging up quickly. "Baymax, _stop_. I've already been stopped once, and I'm not going to let there be a second time; _please _just give me what I want, _please_." He sucked in a sharp breath, staggering as his arms began to shake even more. Just the effort to keep them up was beginning to become taxing. He ducked his head down, rubbing away tears with his shoulder before any could leak over. "Everybody says that they want to help me, but they won't give me the one thing that I _want_."

"You are hurting everyone around you."

"_I _hurt!" Hiro yelled, Baymax blinking away from the additional shout. "_I _hurt!" he repeated. "But apparently the _only thing that matters _is _other _people!" Baymax started to say something, but Hiro was not planning on listening. "It's _always _other people! It doesn't matter that you're hurting because it's other people who are more important! It doesn't matter what you think or feel because other people don't believe in you! It doesn't matter that you want to die because other people won't let you!" He was not bothering to wipe away the tears now— it was like trying to plug up a dam. His voice cracked and wilted as he added hotly: "And it doesn't matter if you love someone and want to keep them safe, because _other people need help!_" His voice curled with scorn and contempt with this last example. He shook his head and swallowed thickly. He tried again, his voice weaker. "…I just don't want to be here anymore…"

"If you like, we could go to the living room."

He sighed, his shoulders drooping as he folded in on himself. "…I didn't mean in the kitchen, Baymax."

Baymax blinked. "I am here for your mental health, Hiro. You could talk to me, Hiro. You are my patient— I am not to look over anyone else. I apologize for my wording— it does not lessen the level of care I am to give to you." He paused, glancing back down at the knife that was still dangerously close to him. Still, he refused to move away from the threat. "You do not truly want to harm yourself, Hiro."

"Don't _tell me_ what I want!" Hiro snapped.

Baymax blinked. "You are frightened, Hiro. Please put the knife down. I can help you. We all can."

Hiro screwed his eyes shut tightly. "Stop _saying that_! Everyone says it, but they don't _mean it_!"

"How do you know?" the robot asked.

Hiro flinched. He readjusted his arms, raising them to be more level as he tried to keep a firmer hold on the knife in his hands. Baymax took another step forward, but Hiro reacted at once. He swiped the knife clumsily, only missing slashing the robot by a millimeter or so. Baymax stopped, but refused to take a step back, despite the proximity to the blade. Hiro made a sad noise in the back of his throat, his arms falling down limply at his sides. For a moment, Baymax thought that the boy had finally come to his senses. But the boy did not even pause before he hung his head, raising one arm to press the knife blade against the soft of his throat. It barely touched him, but the blade chilled him to the bone.

The child's breathing picked up into a hyperventilation, and his voice was a ragged whisper as he spoke next. "I just want this one thing…if you really _do_ care about me, then you would just let me have this." He closed his eyes wearily, looking tired and about five years older than he actually was.

Silence filled the kitchen. Hiro kept his eyes closed, not brave enough to look anymore. At anything—at Baymax, at himself, at the knife. All he had to do was tense his arm just slightly, and it would be over. It was such an easy thing to do, and yet it had taken this long to bring himself to do it. There wasn't much of a point, though. Even someone he didn't know, someone he had only used for his own personal gain…even _they _hated him. He had nothing in his life to look forward to other than a prison where all he could focus on was the sickness in his stomach, or the throbbing in his head. He couldn't have any pills or any alcohol, and he couldn't have his brother, either. So what was the point?

Baymax didn't say or do anything. The whole place was completely silent. Hiro took in a deep breath, a scrape of air that hurt his chest to force down, and shut his eyes even tighter. His forehead creased, and he braced himself for agony and pain as best he could. For a while, he did not move. He didn't know why the action took such a long time to go through his head— he had thought that as soon as Baymax grew silent and bent to what the boy wanted, he would snap right away.

But he stayed still. He didn't even shift in the slightest. It was like he was suddenly frozen.

…What was wrong? Suddenly…something wasn't…it wasn't righ—

The silence was broken by the smallest buzz of static— something that would have gone unnoticed had it not been so quiet in the first place. At first, Hiro was prepared to lash out in another fit of blind anger, under the impression that Baymax was once again going to try and interject himself with some stupid phrase that he had downloaded off the computer. Because that's all it was. He didn't _really _care— he was _programmed _to do it. Whatever he said came off of a stupid _computer_. It didn't mean anything, it wasn't real. So why should he listen to it? He locked his jaw backwards, opening his eyes and looking up as he prepared himself to snap out yet another meaningless retort. But he didn't have the chance.

Not once he saw the source of the noise.

The kitchen was lit up by a faint glow, a small light that cut through and permeated the darkness that had previously swamped the whole house. It was coming from Baymax's stomach— but there wasn't a music note gleaming back at him like there was yesterday morning. There wasn't some stupid song meant to 'cheer him up' present to blare its way forward. It was…_him_…again. His brother. _Tadashi._

Hiro blinked, unable to move at first as he was just floored. His initial thought remained steadfastly vehement. _This is some stupid cheap shot. Don't listen, don't… _But it was pointless. Despite the contempt and anger that struggled to cling to him, Hiro found himself unable to do anything but stare. He couldn't tell what he felt at first, just looking at it. Happiness? Resentment? Sorrow? There was only a mere few seconds that spaced in silence, if that. But it was enough to completely slap Hiro across the face, leaving the young boy reeling, if not even very likely to collapse.

The knife was still pressed to his throat.

Tadashi looked irritated at the very least— bags hung dark underneath his eyes, and his voice was laced with exhaustion as it came out in the form of a sigh. "Tadashi Hamada, again," he huffed, Hiro blinking rapidly as the name reached his ears. Baymax was watching the boy closely, but he did not make a move to speak or break into the scene. He just watched. "And this is the 33rd test…of my…robotics project." It was hardly a grumble by the time he got to the end.

Hiro's throat swelled completely, and even more tears leaked over to burn his cheeks. He watched as the light next to Tadashi burned out in a flurry of sparks, his brother immediately flinching away from the burst right before the entire room was swallowed up in darkness. The only thing that Hiro could see on the screen was the college campus in the background, the sidewalk being lit up by light posts. As his brother vanished out of sight, Hiro's heart picked up even more, the teenager feeling a sense of panic as he took a small step closer. But it was only a few seconds of silence before his brother came back into view, holding a flashlight now as a more concerned look replaced his tired one.

Tadashi was looking straight at Hiro now, shining the flashlight forward as he let out the smallest of sighs. The older Hamada brother's expression seemed somewhat saddened, and Hiro's heart constricted at the sight of his older brother. His breath hitched in his throat, and Hiro found his arm beginning to waver and weaken from where it was suspended. Tadashi raised his eyebrows, leaning forward a little bit as if to say: 'Listen to me.' "I'm not giving up on you," he informed softly. Yet despite the gentleness it held, Tadashi's voice also had a sense of bracing authority. Hiro felt like he was slapped across the face, remembering that his brother had said the exact same thing when he had been ready to throw in the towel with his presentation.

Tadashi looked at him carefully. There was the smallest hint of a smile both in his eyes and his voice as he said: "You don't understand this yet…but people need you." Hiro kept blinking rapidly, as if he was unable to comprehend what was in front of him. His arm grew weak, and eventually it fell entirely to rest at his side, the knife now held in a grip rendered limp. He straightened a little bit more and gave a small nod, his eyes narrowing slightly with determination. "So let's get back to work."

His brother leaned over out of sight to press a button. When the video fuzzed out and came back in, his brother's work station was lit up and glowing; it was sunset. He was in a different outfit, wearing his old hat the way it should be. Hiro watched with a numb expression as his brother rubbed his forehead in a weary fashion. "This is…Tadashi Hamada," he exhaled. "And this if the…84th…test…" He looked up, biting down on his lower lip as his expression became more nervous than anything else. Then he seemed to brace himself, straightening and offering a smile as he leaned over to activate Baymax again. "What do you say, big guy?" he asked.

From the other side of the camera, Baymax's voice started up. Hiro watched as his brother mouthed along the words, slowly growing more and more excited the longer that Baymax seemed to make it through his preliminary greeting. "Hello, I am Baymax— your personal healthcare companion."

"It works…" Tadashi's eyes were round now— he looked like a kid on Christmas morning, and before Hiro knew it, his brother was leaping and jumping up and down, his hands flying every which way in a sense of severe excitement. "It works!" he cheered loudly. "Oh! This is amazing! You work!" He dashed forward, getting up and giving the robot a kiss of relief in his fit of happiness. Hiro blinked, a smile beginning to twitch over his face. "I knew it! I knew it! I knew it!" Hiro ducked his head, wiping his eyes with his jacket sleeve as his shoulders twitched upwards, the smallest wheeze of a laugh escaping his throat.

"Alright…alright…big moment here," Tadashi realized, coming back to himself. Hiro sobered, looking back as his expression quickly clouded over in sorrow once more. The smile was so quick, as well as the laugh— had it been there in the first place? "Scan me," the elder Hamada brother ordered, his arms going out at his sides as he looked at the camera – at Baymax – imploringly.

A beat of silence. Then: "Your neurotransmitter levels are elevated. This indicates that you are happy."

Tadashi was beaming from ear to ear. He sagged forward, out of relief and utter exhilaration. "I am!" he gushed, hardly able to get the words out. "I really _am_!" Getting close to the camera again, he grinned, looking down and shaking his head briefly before perking again. "Oh man…" he sighed, affection rushing to fill every crevice of his voice now. His eyes went soft, and Hiro fought the urge to cringe away. "Wait until my brother sees you," Tadashi murmured. "You are going to help so many people, buddy." Hiro blinked slowly, his lower lip trembling as he looked at the screen. "So many…" Hiro swiped at his eyes again, his chest feeling as if it was being carved out slowly. "That's all for now. I am satisfied with my care."

He leaned forward slightly and smiled, his expression warm and soft. The clip ended there.

Silence swamped the house once again, and at first the only sound that existed was Hiro's harsh breathing, and the occasional wet sniff. Baymax blinked once, looking carefully at Hiro, who just continued to stare at the screen, as if he was unable to look away. He stood still for a few moments more. But soon the robot turned, shuffling over to the counter a few feet away. Hiro jerked at the robot's leave, as if roused from a dream. He opened his mouth halfway, groping for something to say or do in response. But it was like he was winded. By the time Baymax waddled neatly back, Hiro still could not manage to find something.

Baymax came back slowly, holding the hat that Hiro had discarded earlier in his hands. Hiro blinked, looking down at the thing silently, though more tears tracked down the sides of his face at the sight of it. Baymax looked at it as well, as if torn on what to say. Then, he looked back up and extended it to Hiro slowly, as if not to startle him. "…I am not going to give up on you, Hiro," he informed softly, Hiro leaning backwards slightly at the words. "You are not aware of it, but people need you."

Hiro did not reach for the hat, but Baymax kept his arms out regardless. The boy looked from the hat to the robot, his stomach hurting in an entirely different way than it had when he first woke up. Baymax blinked once and tilted his head to the side curiously. Hiro remained unmoving for a moment more, just staring. Yet gradually, his face crumpled, his shoulders sagging forward as he found began to fold in on himself. His hand went completely lax, and Hiro flinched sharply at the clatter that knife made as it hit the tiled floor.

"Oh my God…" he rasped, his voice shivering as he raised his hands up to press against his head. His eyes were wide and slowly filling with panic as his breathing picked up. Baymax snapped to attention, extinguishing the video altogether as he walked closer. But Hiro wasn't even roused by the decreased proximity. He just looked up at Baymax, his face written over in shock and horror as his mouth stayed slack and open. He was searching for something to say, but all he could manage was to stutter out another: "Oh my God!" His voice was bordering hysteria.

"It is alright, Hiro," Baymax soothed. "You are safe. You did not do anything."

Hiro dug his nails into his skull, his eyes still burning with sharp alarm. Yet his voice was the smallest of hisses as he whispered: "But I…I almost…" He turned, looking down at the floor where the knife was now discarded. He was trembling from head to toe. "What was I…I almost…just completely…" He looked at Baymax, searching the robot's face anxiously. Almost like he was asking the robot for some sort of help or reassurance. For once. Still with a weak tone, he whimpered: "Oh my God…"

Baymax started to move forward as if to help him. When someone else beat him to it.

Fred flew forward, Hiro going rigid as he felt arms circle around him tightly. A distressed noise sounded in the back of Hiro's throat as his air nearly cut off entirely with the sheer force of the embrace. Fred had collapsed to his knees, the older teenager pressing his forehead down into the younger child's shoulder. The hug was slightly awkward as Fred held his injured hand up gingerly, trying not to irritate it even more. Regardless of the fact, though, his grip was crushing. And Hiro realized with a stab of panic that it wasn't just him that was shaking; Fred was, too.

At the other end of the kitchen, the way that he and Baymax had taken in, the rest of the group was clustered in a together, their eyes wide. Honey Lemon had her hand clamped tightly over her mouth, and Gogo's face was forlorn and sober, Wasabi looking shaken at the expression that was still on Hiro's face. The boy blanched, too shocked to do anything for what seemed like years and years. When he did move, it was gradually, his hands ravaged in tremors as he raised his arms to hold tight to Fred as well. His voice was no better for wear, shaking and riddled in sharp gasps as he struggled to form coherent words. "…I'm…I'm sorry," he whispered. His eyes were wide as he stared blankly over Fred's shoulder, which was quickly growing wet with tears.

He felt Fred shake his head just slightly, and the embrace around him became even tighter. "Don't apologize," Fred murmured. "You're okay. You're going to be just fine from now on, aren't you?"

Hiro sniffed, his shoulders heaving as he shifted to duck his head down. "I could have just…I almost…"

"I know," Fred murmured gently. "I know. …I know."

Hiro let out a heavy sob, holding onto Fred now as if his life was dependent on it. "I'm sorry," he cried, his fingers curling wrinkles into the older boy's shirt. "I'm sorry, I'm sorry! I did all of this…all of it…I can't even…what if I had—?"

"But you didn't," Fred pointed out, refusing to let go. "You didn't. And...And I'm _so _proud of you."

Hiro opened his eyes, looking up from the other's shoulder as his eyes flickered over to Baymax. The robot was standing just a few inches away, watching intently. He still held Tadashi's hat firmly in his hands, though his attention was not aimed down to the thing.

In the back of his mind, Hiro realized that Fred was starting to speak— saying something that was probably meant to be reassuring or comforting. But it went right over Hiro's head. The boy was too busy staring straight ahead, his eyes round as they flickered from his brother's hat, to the robot that was holding it.

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A/N: New theory: The longer the chapter, the more I dislike it. I really need like a beta reader for this thing, my goodness.

By the way, I _did _keep the main issue accurate in this chapter. Second Nature _does _only communicate through one email. My dad always had to send out the emails he got to everyone in the family— including my mom too. It was weird.

Alright! Now— it was _VERY_ important to me that I get this chapter out today. Whether or not anybody else realizes it, today, November 23rd, marks exactly one year since I first uploaded this story. This means a lot of things for me. It means it's been one year since I published what is now my favorite fanfiction to write, it means one year since I was able to meet and talk with a lot of neat, sweet people, and most importantly, it marks one year since the day I was finally able to leave the ICU waiting room of a children's hospital and not have to return. Despite everything, this story means so much to me, and I am touched when I hear that it is the same for others. I found it appropriate to end the anniversary chapter in such a manner as this. And I hope, despite my hesitations, I was able to pull it off as well as I wanted to.

Though, of course, as always, I am open to your feedback if you feel as if I could alter something. Any typos too, that I could go and fix, maybe? This chapter is seventeen pages in size 8.5 font, so forgive me if I'm a little lazy when it comes to editing…

Hopefully I hear from a lot of people- I still have _an obscene amount of things planned_, so I hope you're excited! And I hope I can update soon!

QUICK PRO TIP VIA ME: Don't punch walls. Seriously. That was another part of this story that came from what happened to me. You will not beat that wall in a fight. I promise.


	19. Chapter 19

A/N: Hola! Sorry for the slight delay. Finals coupled with the fact that I _am_ waiting for ten reviews now factors into the gap. I kind of hate to do it with this story in particular, when the reviews that I get for this one are so in-depth and awesome to read. But I did make the commitment with my other stories and therefore my other reviewers. So unfortunately, I do have to stick to it. I hope you all don't hate me!

And let me tell you, when you're in a situation like this, you find out _so much _about other people. In some cases, much more than you would ever want to know.

_When will my darkest days, be more than miles away?_

_ When will my wrongs turn right?_

_ When will I sleep at night, with this mess I've made?_

One Of Those Days – Jamestown Story

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Weakness, like every other idea under the sun, is relative. Nobody ever really shares the _exact_ same opinion on its definition. It's similar to the temperature of a room. While a person might be freezing and fit for hyperthermia, someone else in the same room might consider it to feel absolutely perfect. Even if they were involved in the same situation, the two opinions were different. Opposite, even. This was just as true a case like this— even though it was vastly different than a simple disagreement over how cold a room was.

In Fred's opinion, this was it. This had to be the turning point. It was like this whole time they had been pushing and shoving on a stationary car, and it was finally starting to roll its way forward. It was a big step, certainly. What else could it be? To him, as well as everyone else, this couldn't be seen as anything but positive. They would have been ready to celebrate, had it not been for the whole entire weight of the situation that was over them all now. But despite the emotions that were still weighing heavily over them all, the consensus was clear among the friends. This was a very good step forward in the right direction.

Hiro did not take after their train of thought. He didn't think that this was empowering at all. Why would it be? The others did not consider this as an act of weakness in the slightest, but he could not be so sure. All he knew was that he was exhausted in every sense of the word. He wanted to curl up and lie down and sleep for about ten years. If such a long nap could even begin to make him feel more rested. He was starting to think that he would never feel such a sensation ever again. Among other things…

It had taken some time to get Hiro to calm down. He had been beside himself, despite the fact that the others went forward to try and help Fred in dealing with him. Fred remained where he was, holding onto Hiro, his sole purpose being to steady and root him in place. Honey Lemon had wasted no time in picking the knife up off the floor and set it down in the sink. She wasn't sure where else she was supposed to put it. Or what she should do with it. The thought of Hiro being so close to yanking the point across his own throat was sickening— it almost made her get sick right on the spot.

What would have happened if…?

Mentally, she was admonishing herself. Herself, and the group as a whole. They should have paid more attention. Had Baymax not been able to help Hiro the way that he had, they would have something much more critical on their hands than they did, which, before now, Honey Lemon hadn't even thought was possible. They had all decided to stay up, each reading off of laptops or phones or tablets as they struggled to find somewhere else for Hiro to go. Somewhere that would not only be a regimented place for Hiro, but also did not require as much money as Second Nature did. A few times, Fred had tried calling his dad again, just to see whether or not they could pull it off.

No such luck.

They had been roused by yelling. It had not taken them long to recognize Hiro's voice. Immediately taking to scrambling, they rushed, trying to figure out where he was. Honey Lemon had been the first to get upset, her eyes beading over in tears as her mind was assaulted with all the possibilities that could be happening. By the time they found their way to the kitchen, she had been trying to hide the fact that she was crying. Though she probably wasn't good for the effort.

Fumbling into the scene, nobody knew what to do at first. Their eyes had fallen on Baymax and Hiro, the two standing opposite of each other. They saw the knife, and the fact that its blade was against his neck. They had started to scramble in the attempt to stop him. They didn't have a plan or anything— it probably would have been messy. But they had stopped once they'd realized what was going on. They stopped once they realized Baymax was already putting forth the effort to stop Hiro from whatever the boy was planning. And succeeding.

Once the video stopped, and once horrified realization dawned over Hiro, that's when Fred had rushed forward to embrace him. It led to now, where they were trying to pick up the pieces as best and as quick as they could. Honey Lemon put away the knife while Gogo and Wasabi flew to Baymax for answers. Fred stayed put, hugging Hiro close and trying his best to make him feel better. Or at the very least, help him to stop panicking. After putting away the kitchen utensil that had almost turned into a weapon, Honey Lemon rushed over to help, rubbing Hiro's shoulder in what she hoped would be a soothing manner.

Fred and Honey Lemon listened with half an ear to Baymax report what had happened. How Hiro had gone to the kitchen and yanked out the knife, pressing it to his throat and refusing to halt until Baymax played his video. It was horrifying, but in a way it was a relief as well. A relief to see the panic on Hiro's face and the fear that throbbed through his voice as he tried to spit out something meaningful. But mostly all that escaped his mouth was unintelligible mumbles— mumbles that were lost thanks to the fact that he spoke into Fred's shoulder.

Fred shushed him after a few minutes, finally reeling him in. Glancing back at Gogo and Wasabi, who were standing silently on either side of Baymax, he put forth the proposal of sleep. On Hiro's end, it was much-needed. But it was also a silent way of telling the others that they should stop scavenging the internet for other places for Hiro. Though subtle, it was handed over reluctantly, as if he wasn't sure how the others would take it. Honey Lemon looked up, gnawing on her bottom lip as she waited for the answer with bated breath.

Surely they couldn't reject Hiro like this? Now? When he's finally seen some sense? Or…more sense than he has been showing recently at least. They couldn't give up now?

To her utter relief and slight surprise, Gogo spoke up to agree first. Wasabi relented soon after, and everyone had broken up to scavenge everything they could. Except for Fred, of course, who remained at Hiro's side. While Wasabi broke off to find pillows, and Gogo and Honey Lemon went for blankets, Fred pulled away just enough to look at Hiro in concern. "Are you okay?" Honey Lemon heard his worried voice as she left the room. "What were you thinking, man? Do you…wanna talk about it?"

She was gone before she could hear Hiro's reply. If he even gave one.

When they came back, Fred had led Hiro and Baymax to the living room. Baymax stood by the fireplace, watching the other two intently where they sat on the oversized couch shortly away. Nobody was speaking. Hiro was looking down at his lap, where his hands rested limply. His expression held more sorrow in it that Honey Lemon had ever seen a human being harbor at one time. She didn't even realize it was possible to have so much sorrow and regret inside of you at once.

Nobody really continued to speak much. There was too much to say, really. Unspoken words hung thick in the air, but nobody was really brave enough to puck one down to themselves. Even Baymax was silent, realizing the gravity of what had happened. Hiro didn't look up much from his hands. If so, it was only to glance up every now and then only to look away quickly as soon as anyone noticed. Tears were like raindrops down the side of his face, and he sniffed every so often. Communication pretty much stopped there.

Honey Lemon walked over, her expression heavy as she offered Hiro a blanket she had found in one of the spare bedrooms. Wasabi did the same with a pillow, and Hiro took each one with just as much reclusiveness and hesitation. He didn't waste a lot of time before pushing the pillow down against the armrest of the couch. He shuffled over and settled himself down, wrapping the blanket tightly over himself and ducking his head down as if to hide away. The others sat in complete silence, just watching him. Waiting. For something.

Baymax spoke up after what seemed like forever. His voice was significantly softer than it normally was. "He is asleep."

Still, they were still silent. Even with Hiro asleep, they weren't sure what to say.

Honey Lemon finally drew up the nerve to speak. "So what now?" she whispered.

Fred looked from Hiro, to the others. He kept his voice to a low mumble as well. "I think…we might have a chance." Honey Lemon looked over at Hiro, only being able to see the dark mop of hair poking out from the blanket. She pictured them all gathered around together, watching a horse race and trying to bet on the horse that was lagging the farthest behind. A million dollars on it, and it was just beginning to pick up speed. 'We might have a chance,' they would think. 'Here's our chance not to lose everything.'

It was sad.

Not for the first time, the thought came to her. How had it come to all this?

Wasabi nodded. He was busy helping Gogo set up a bed on the floor, where they would sleep. Though Gogo was making a pillow barrier down the middle. Honey Lemon was going to take one of the loveseats— Fred would take the other. "I think so," Wasabi said, glancing over at Baymax with a dubious expression. "I mean…I don't know. We'll have to see. This…this might not stick."

Gogo looked up, sitting cross-legged by her pillow. She looked over at Hiro, worn-out and tired. From more than just the early hour that they were up. "It might not," she relented. Honey Lemon fought not to shoot a glare in her direction. She wasn't fool enough to try and fight it, if she was being honest. Hiro had been so bad for so long. He had relapsed enough to take those pills— couldn't he be fool enough to relapse even from this? Just because he gained a steady mindset enough not to slice himself open, didn't mean that he was magically cured. It couldn't possibly be that easy. Gogo shook her head. "We should keep the other places in mind. Just in case we need them later."

Honey Lemon tried to make her see the big picture as well. She could not look away from Hiro, the frown still permanent on her face. "But he's coming around," she murmured. "Isn't he? We can't drop him now." She tore her gaze away a little reluctantly, her hands wringing in her lap. "He deserves more than that. If anything, we should try even harder. He made it far enough to stop himself from…" She trailed off, not being able to finish. Instead she just shook her head and went on. "We need to encourage him. We can't do anything but." A hesitation before: "And we _cannot _make him feel bad for what happened tonight."

Fred nodded agreement. When he spoke next, Honey Lemon could sense that he was trying to put a little bit more beat in his voice. "I think we have a way to help things over, though," he said. There was a small pause, where he looked hard at each one of his friends. Wasabi smiled wearily, and Honey Lemon did the same after a pause, though hers was a bit more genuine. Gogo was quiet. She still seemed off. Her expression was weighted down as she looked at Hiro, and Honey Lemon wondered if she was even listening. Or what her problem could possibly be. Though she wasn't inclined to ask, and possibly start a fight. Lately, her friend had been a little bit touchy. Touchier than normal.

"I guess it would be a more subtle way to move off of the topic," Wasabi relented.

"And we can't put it off for forever," Fred pointed out. A smile was growing on his face, however weak. At least that was a little touch of familiarity. "I think it could be a good distraction. Always is. Why should it be different now?"

"Keep in mind, he might not be in the…'spirit,'" Honey Lemon murmured.

"We can just try," Fred argued.

Gogo didn't say anything. She just stared over at Hiro, subdued.

Honey Lemon spoke up. Her voice was a little stronger as she leaned over to wrap her blanket tighter around herself. "That's exactly right," she said, Fred having voiced the very thought she had been hoping to have the others adopt this entire time. "We can only try." It was the best they all could do. It was what they all owed Aunt Cass, and Tadashi as well. To stop trying would be to slap both of them in the face. They had to stay true to both of them— and in turn, they had to stay true to Hiro.

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Gogo woke up early. Too early. She wasn't ever the kind of person to wake up before the sun, and yet that was exactly what she was doing at the moment. She wasn't sure what woke her up to begin with. Maybe it was the fact that she was sleeping on the floor, completely freezing with the threadbare blanket that she had unthinkingly claimed the night before. She blew out a heavy breath of air, pushing herself up as the faint click of chattering teeth filled the silent room. It was freezing! It had to be about twenty below!

Looking down, she drew the blanket up and wrapped it tightly around her shoulders. She looked around, having to squint in order to see through the dimness of the early morning. Sure enough, nobody else was awake yet. Honey Lemon was curled awkwardly in one of the loveseats, looking like a blanket creature with the way she was positioned. Fred mimicked her position in the other chair, and Wasabi had his back to her, snoring gently.

She sighed, looking down and rubbing at her eyes. She was so _freezing_. She couldn't fall back asleep like this. Groggily, her sleep-filled mind started to form a plan to get up and venture out to find a thicker blanket. A _much _thicker one. Throwing off her thin blanket with a bit of reluctance, she turned and stood up with a sigh, stretching out her muscles, which were stiff after her hours of being on the ground. Though it wasn't the most comfortable place to sleep, she had to admit that after staying up so late, she was at least a little bit grateful for sleep.

She would go and take her comforter from her own room. She wasn't sure what time it was, and if the venture would even be worth it. But taking in the fact of how dark it still was in the room, she decided that she might as well. It still had to be pretty early. She turned, trying to remember the layout of the whole place – it was still pretty new to her – when she suddenly stopped dead. Something was wrong. Whirling around to face the couch, Gogo's eyes widened and cold terror gripped her heart as she realized that Hiro was not where they had left him. He wasn't sleeping, all tucked away underneath the blanket. His blanket was thrown down on the ground.

He wasn't there.

She spun over the hearth, her heart picking up in her chest. Baymax was gone too.

They were both gone.

Oh, God.

Panic set in quickly. She looked around at the others, wondering wildly whether or not she should wake them up. Her first impulse was certainly to do just that— she was close to outright jumping on Wasabi. But she restrained herself as best she could. She didn't know what was going on— what if he had just gone to the bathroom? Baymax would follow him, of course, as per orders. It could be something simple like that; she shouldn't be so quick to create mass hysteria, especially just after what had occurred last night. Of course, in the back of her mind, she thought that maybe she _should _make a fuss purely because of what had happened just a short while before.

She would try to find them. She would try to find them first, and then if she couldn't, or if she found something out of the ordinary, she would wake them up. She remembered Honey Lemon's sharpness in Gogo's tendency to immediately resort to calling Hiro out. If she did it now, and it turned out to be nothing, she would only be proving her right.

But what if Hiro was…

_Are you really going to risk Hiro's life because you want to save some face?_

She hesitated a bit more. Looked around the room, gnawing on her bottom lip. Eventually she made up her mind, and tore herself away out of the den. Instantly, her first thought was the kitchen. Her stomach was in knots, and a gory image burned in the back of her eyelids. She thought of Hiro splayed out on the ground, dark blood gushing from a slice across his own throat flashed in her mind like some kind of horror movie scene. She could see blood and gore, as well as a hauntingly empty stare. Would he really go and do this right after last night?

She burst into the kitchen, afraid for what she might see. But nothing was there. She ran to the sink, and saw that the knife Honey Lemon had put away was still there. Clean— not crusted over in blood. Breathing out a sigh of relief and drawing a hand through her hair, Gogo pulled away and looked around decisively. So he wasn't here. Running out of options, she went to run and check his room. Still nothing. They weren't anywhere. But they had to have gone somewhere. They couldn't just disappear in the middle of it all without warning. Gogo drew herself up and rushed down to the nearest bathroom. But there wasn't a light shining out from underneath it, and there wasn't an answer when she leaned over to knock on it.

He ran. That was her second thought. But surely if he had fled, Baymax would have contacted them all? It's what he did before, right? Steeling herself and starting for the door, she grabbed her coat and started to rush out. However, she didn't have the chance. The door was still locked. From the inside. Hiro didn't have a key to the house— only Fred did. So he couldn't have gone out this way. Then…the back? She let out a short huff of air, turning reluctantly to run for the other end of the house. She was close to just going out the front door. But if she could find him in the backyard, then she would save the trouble of a wild goose chase. If he wasn't in the backyard, she could easily reach the others and then go to find him from there. If she went out the front, she wouldn't have a starting point. She could either go down the street or up it, and even then, she wouldn't have a clear ending point.

So the back, it was.

Zipping up her coat, and still trying to be as noiseless as possible – she would only wake the rest up if he wasn't in the backyard – Gogo found the sliding door that led outside. Or, one of them, at least. It wasn't any lighter outside than it was inside, and Gogo had to narrow her eyes to be able to see. She realized that it was snowing again, which answered her question of how it could be so cold. She shoved her hands into her pockets, her teeth beginning to chatter again as she ducked her head down under her collar. Wasting no time, she turned and broke into a run, her shoes crunching through the snow loudly.

She saw nothing for a while, and her heart was just as frozen as her cheeks were beginning to be. Where could he have gone? Where was he going to go if not here? Back to Aunt Cass'? That would be the best case scenario, though it would put them in a little bit of hot water. Back to his one friend's from the bad part of the city? She couldn't see why he would, though to be frank, she didn't know why Hiro had done a lot of things. Who was to say that he had to make sense from this point on?

She was starting to unravel. The yard was huge, and Gogo knew that the longer she took in trying to find him, the farther away he would get. She would just have to go back and wake up the others. At least now they couldn't blame her for being too quick to judge. She had tried to find them on her own. She had given Hiro the benefit of the doubt for the first time since he had come to stay. But all she could see was snow and ice— she couldn't see hide of hair of their old friend's brother.

She was getting ready to double back. To her, it was the only option.

When she saw it. A soft, orange glow. Baymax.

She gasped softly, jerking backwards. For a second, she was floored with shock. She wasn't sure she could actually believe that they were still here. But eventually she snapped out of it. She broke into a sprint, floundering through the snow a little clumsily as she caught up to the shine. She felt a wave of relief as her eyes also could make out a small shape on the ground. Laying down. Not running away. Hiro was with Baymax too. At first, Gogo was concerned that he was hurt, with the way he was lying. But as she got closer, she could make him out more and more. He didn't look like he was in pain. In fact, as Gogo neared him, she saw that he actually looked…relaxed. More…at peace, somehow. Or at the very least, he wasn't so wrought with pain and regret like he had just a few hours ago.

She came to a stop a few feet away, unsure of what to do. Baymax looked up at her, giving a slow blink. He was sitting close beside Hiro, who was lying on his back in the snow. He was lit up orange, and Gogo could feel a comforting heat radiating from him even where she sat. He tilted his head to the side, looking almost pleased to see her. If such a thing was possible, of course. "Hello, Gogo," he greeted pleasantly. "You did not sleep for very long. You should take better care of yourself. Sleep deprivation can lead to decreased performance and intelligence, as well as things such as stress, memory impairment, poor—"

"I know, Baymax, I know," she said, cutting him off as politely as she could. She glanced down at Hiro, realizing that he hadn't moved yet. She bit down on her lower lip, feeling a pang in her stomach. Glancing back at the dark house behind her, Gogo was hesitant when she spoke next. "I woke up and you two were gone. I was…worried." Hiro didn't react. His expression was blank and unreadable as he stared up at the sky. Snow was flecking over his face— Gogo could tell he hadn't shifted in a long while, as his legs were partially covered in a layer of new snow. He didn't even twitch. She resorted to looking over at Baymax, unnerved that Hiro would not answer her. "Baymax?" she asked. "What are you doing?"

The robot was, as always, armed with an answer. "Hiro awoke shortly after he fell asleep. He asked if he would be allowed to take a walk outside to clear his head. I was not going to let him, of course, but he said he wanted nothing more than to go for a walk. I could not detect a rise in heartbeat or panic that would indicate any deception." He blinked, turning away from Gogo and looking down at Hiro instead. "I was unsure of whether or not to trust him, so I held his hand in order to walk." The way he said it, it was almost like he was proud of himself for such an intellectual breakthrough. Though Gogo could still see a few flaws in the logic of it all. Baymax was far too trusting, it seemed. It was his crux. Was that still a problem? She couldn't tell— it all depended on Hiro.

Baymax continued. "Hiro kept his word this time. We walked for twenty minutes and forty-seven seconds. Then Hiro grew tired, and stopped to rest here. It was preferable— before going out, I warned Hiro that he needed rest more than he did a walk. However, he refused to listen." He cocked his head. "So we have been sitting here for ten minutes and fifty-five seconds." Gogo blinked, digesting the idea. She could hardly believe it— Hiro had actually come out here and stayed here? Kept his word? It was something that seemed entirely basic, but it caused her deep surprise. She looked from Hiro to Baymax, speechless. Unsure of what to do.

Baymax was just as much at a loss on what he was supposed to say. Having Gogo's gaze on him, he must have been under the impression that he was supposed to say something more. Just in time, he announced: "Now we have been sitting here for eleven minutes."

"That's…that's dynamite, Baymax," she mumbled softly. Silence congested between the trio, and Baymax looked back to study Hiro again. Seeing the boy's core temperature was dropping slightly, he scooted closer, to allow him to have more heat. Still, Hiro didn't react. For all she knew, Hiro was deaf to everything. She glanced back at the mansion a second time, debating. But she couldn't bring herself to drag Hiro back inside when he looked so peaceful out here. And the fact that he had kept his word not to leave when he so obviously could…she couldn't squash that.

She fell on the only thing she could think of. Plodding through the snow, she walked over to stand closer to Hiro. Hiro refused to look at her, and she felt awkwardness burn away her cold. Softly, underneath her breath, she asked: "Hey. Is there…room down there for one more?" She expected Hiro to shrug her off. Or give a sharp retort in reply, at least. But he didn't. His eyes flickered over to her briefly— just enough time to register who it was that was there, pretty much.

His voice was a soft mumble as he replied with one word. "Sure."

It was more than she had gotten in a long while that wasn't yelling or getting angry. Faintly surprised and unnerved, she turned and settled down beside him. She made a small hollow in the snow, making herself comfortable before leaning back to lay down. She was only a small distance away from Hiro, but she was acutely aware of this fact. He wasn't pushing her away or grumbling underneath his breath. He wasn't gnashing his teeth at the proximity at all. In fact, looking over at him, Gogo saw that he had looked away from her back to the sky. His expression was just as unreadable.

A few full minutes of silence passed. Gogo realized how effective Baymax was at providing heat— she was hardly shivering, despite the fact that she was getting dusted over with snow. She was colder inside the house, really. Shoving her hands into her coat pockets, she gave a small sigh, crossing her legs neatly as she stared up at the sky. Really, it was a pretty sight. Usually you couldn't see the stars very well, thanks to all the lights from the city. But now, at least they were more noticeable. Her small sigh escaped her mouth in a small cloud. She watched it disappear before breaking the quiet.

"I'm…" How to put this in the correct way? She turned her head to look over at him. "I'm sorry for getting smoothie all over you."

Hiro blinked slowly. He didn't tear his eyes away from the snowy sky. His response came in the form of an exhale. "It happens."

She considered this. Then turned back to look up at the sky again herself. She allowed them to rest in the quiet of the morning again before she tried to make another conversation. Then, her voice quiet, she asked before she could second-guess herself: "Were you really going to do it?"

Surprisingly, Hiro's reply was instantaneous, yet just as emotionless. "Yeah."

Gogo frowned. She cleared her throat. "You know, there was a…study done on people who have thrown themselves off the San Fransokyo Bridge and lived?" She waited for a reply, but Hiro didn't give her one. Though it was clear that he was listening. "A majority of people said that about halfway down, they realized that all of their problems were fixable." She shrugged. "Every single issue." Silence swallowed her words, and her voice was a small mumble when she spoke next. "I guess you had a little bit of that. Which is good. I hope you…remember that feeling, you know?"

Hiro didn't reply.

This was turning out to be more awkward than she thought it would be.

She closed her eyes and took a deep breath. "Look, I've…probably been coming off the wrong way," she started uneasily. Hiro blinked, his eyes flickering over to her. But he didn't turn his head. Regardless, Gogo continued. "It's hard for me to handle something like this, you know? It doesn't really…come across as exactly the best thing to do." Still, Hiro didn't say anything. _Help me out here, just a_ little _bit… _"I don't really tell anybody most things. So…when I wanted to maybe tell you after all of this happened…that was even tougher. And…I never really had a chance to, you know?"

Hiro turned with this now. A slight relief on Gogo's part, as she wasn't really sitting well with this silence. Especially now. She turned to look at him, seeing the underneath the initial layer of blank slates, there was the tiniest bit of interest and confusion. Sorrowfully, she remembered how Tadashi used to look whenever he was interested in something. How he could sometimes resort to jumping up and down and waving his arms all around. She had always made fun of him for how excited he would get. But what she would give to see him like that, now…

She looked back up at the sky. But she could still feel Hiro's gaze on her. The fact caused her to speak even slower. "So when I was little, my parents got divorced. It was about eleven or twelve. It was a much bigger deal than it should have been, but my dad was a jerk. He was threatened my mom on a daily basis. Every day it would be something new. We were going to lose everything— absolutely nobody would help us. But one day, my dad was sideswiped by a car…and he died. Just like that." She paused, then went on. "We went to his funeral, because that's what my mom wanted to do. But…I didn't feel sad. At all. I had good memories of him before the divorce, but…I just couldn't manage to feel any shred of guilt or sadness. Do you know what I mean?"

Hiro didn't reply. But he turned around fully now. His gaze was intent.

She went on, but it was nearing the more difficult side. "It bugged me so much. That I couldn't feel a single thing for someone who was so nice…you know, before all of that mess. I thought…that there had to be something wrong. With me." Hiro's expression was growing less and less hard. It melted and changed— drooping like a leaf underneath rain. Sorrow clouded over his face. Gogo didn't look over at him, though. She was staring off into space, as if she was seeing something Hiro couldn't. "So I tried to make myself feel the pain that I couldn't seem to get on my _own_."

The snow's journey to the ground had been silent before this. But now it seemed much too loud. Like an explosion going off with every flake's landing. Gogo continued. "I used a pencil. Scratched myself all up on my hips, so that nobody would be able to see or call me out on it. It always hurt, and the next day, I would have to not flinch when my jeans rubbed against all of the cuts I made. But eventually I wasn't satisfied by it anymore. I still wasn't hurting the way I was supposed to. The way everyone else did when someone passed away. So…I just…did it. It wasn't planned or anything. I just got up one morning and decided to cut a vein instead."

Hiro had been completely silent. Gogo paused, her expression filled with too many emotions as she stared straight ahead.

The stars that had managed to remain in this dawn sure were pretty.

Hiro's voice was quiet. "What happened then?"

Gogo shrugged. "Mom found me. I didn't even lock the door." She offered a small laugh at this, but it came across as wilted and deflated. "I got to the hospital fine and everything turned out okay. But there was something different between what happened to you and what happened to me. I was aware of everything the moment I woke up. Groggy, but…I knew what was happening and what I did. My mom was crying— _hard_. My sister looked awful. My grandparents even flew in, and they were crying too. Everyone was just…crying.

"I realized how horrible I'd just been. There was a lot of apologizing to go around. I went into a therapy program— it was hard, but I did it because I couldn't get the thought of my mom crying out of my head. And…gradually…I realized that it was okay I didn't cry. I realized that I'm not a very emotional person, and that it was just the way I handled things. It was different…but that didn't make it evil or bad. Just because I don't cry or get upset…doesn't make me any less worthy of living than anyone else. It was a hard thing to realize, but I did do it. Eventually. And I made sure not to forget it since."

Again, there was that quiet. That gap where means of talking seemed impossible.

Gogo braced against it. She had a point. "So when this all happened with you…it was like a second time through. Except this time I was the one on the receiving end of it. I was the one who got woken up in the morning with a gut-wrenching feeling in my stomach. And…seeing Aunt Cass…so upset and…well, it just made me remember my mom. And all the pain I put her through. _You_ didn't see it. Or at least you pretended not to." She pushed herself up to a sitting position, turning and looking at where Hiro was still on the ground. He looked right back at her. "But she was heartbroken. You really killed her, with everything that you did."

Hiro blinked. He still didn't reply. But Gogo could see that he was growing upset. She took a deep breath and went on as best she could. "She was a mess. Didn't eat…didn't sleep, from what I saw. She was a one-man hospital with the way that she was taking care of you while you were out. It made me remember everything, and how hard it was. So…when you came here, and you denied everything…it just…made being here a lot harder. You weren't facing what you did to not only yourself, but to her, too. To everyone. And I…I just couldn't keep myself from being harsher in…certain situations."

Hiro hesitated. He frowned and looked away, biting down on his lower lip. Gogo watched carefully, letting it sink in for a moment or two. He spoke, and his voice seemed to be as fragile as any of these snowflakes falling around them. "I used to be able to fix everything, and now I can't even fix myself." His voice was a mere mumble. Gogo wondered if he even meant to speak out loud, or just to himself. Nonetheless, she heard it all the same. His eyes were shadowed over in sorrow and remorse. It was such a heavy expression for someone as little as he was. "I just want him _back_. And I can't have that." He refused to look at her. "We're different. What am I supposed to know about myself? That I'm _pathetic_?" Gogo's eyebrows pulled together, but he didn't stop. Though, his voice dropped out from under itself. "It's easier to just…" He trailed off with a sigh, closing his eyes.

Gogo hesitated. She looked down at the ground, her features still laden down with sorrow. She wasn't sure what to say. Not after she had said what she did, that is. There seemed to be something in between them now. It was why she hadn't told anyone about what had happened to her when she was little— not even Honey Lemon, who was the most sympathetic of the group hands-down. She was afraid of this exact feeling of awkwardness and tension between her and anyone else. She had endured it between herself and her family for the first few weeks after the ordeal had played out. Now it seemed to be planting itself all over again between her and Hiro.

And suddenly she realized that she, above everyone else, should have been handling this the best.

Because they felt the exact same thing.

As the realization dawned over her she blinked, facing back front and pulling her knees up to her chest. She rested her head there and locked her hands over her ankles to keep them in place. She studied the snowflakes that were still raining down. "You're not pathetic, Hiro. You're far from it. You pulled the knife away."

"Doesn't matter," Hiro mumbled. Again his reply was quick.

She glanced over at him. "Why not?"

He didn't answer. She noticed that at his sides, his hands curled in and out. She shook her head. Resorting to going cross-legged and twisting around so that she could study him instead. She looked at his unkempt hair, his hollow, tired eyes. She looked at the bagginess of his clothes and she looked at the bandages that were poking out from underneath the sleeves of his hoodie. At his sorrowful expression and his…well…just _him_. How different he was in comparison to the kid that had given that amazing presentation back at SFIT with his Microbots. It was the same kid that had lifted up his acceptance letter with a beaming grin as his mind was played over with every possibility that was opened up to him. It was the same kid who, just a little while ago, had smiled blearily from where he was motionless in a hospital bed, lifting up his voice just enough to declare gently: "Gogo. Gogo's the coolest."

Had he meant that?

"You're not pathetic, Hiro," she said, her voice turning harder with the protest. Baymax was looking from Gogo to Hiro as each one spoke, not missing a single detail. Hiro blinked slowly, turning and looking over at her. He didn't speak. But he didn't need to— she could see everything there was to know in his expression as it was. She shook her head, having a sense of finality to her voice when she spoke next. "You're anything but. Because you're still _here_. That just shows how strong you are, you know?"

Hiro didn't do anything for a heartbeat or two. Again, the only sound was the wind that blew the snowflakes here and there. He stared up at the quickly-clouding sky, his expression looking just as much so. Gogo wanted to say something more, but she couldn't think of anything else. Hiro spoke up after the pause, his voice still deflated and quiet. It reminded Gogo of a blank piece of paper. Absolutely nothing held inside of it.

"Maybe," Hiro whispered eventually. It was noncommittal, and barely anything within itself. Any other situation, and Gogo would have been deeply dissatisfied. But instead, the only thing she could do was breathe out a small sigh of relief. It wasn't much, no. But it was much more than they had gotten since this whole thing had started. It was better than him curling away from everything and hiding like a turtle in its shell.

It was a start.

She nodded once. Blinked a few times and then turned over so that she could lay back down. She looked back up at the sky, pursing her lips. Side-by-side, the two lay in complete silence, not looking at one another— just looking straight ahead. The sky was getting lighter by the minute, though the effect was countered by the fact that it was getting obscured by clouds. But regardless, it was peaceful. And, thanks to Baymax, it was warm. Hiro did not object to their closeness, and Gogo even started to become tired and drowsy. She might have nodded off if Hiro hadn't decided to speak. "Gogo?"

She perked immediately. She shifted so that she could look at him. "Mhm?"

He was hesitating, still looking up, as if he was watching intently for something. "Was…was that story true?" he asked, Gogo being forced to strain in order to hear him. He kept looking up, and for a moment, Gogo thought that he could not meet her gaze. However, no sooner did she consider this, did he turn to meet her gaze. He seemed desperate for an answer, waiting tensely. Gogo couldn't even see the rise and fall of his chest.

She shed off whatever might have been holding her back. She grinned widely, making sure that it couldn't be taken as anything but genuine. "Of course." Her voice was significantly lighter now. "I wouldn't make up a story like that. It was years ago, but…still." She sighed again and shoved her hands in her pockets. "I know how it can feel. But I also know how it feels to get better." She thought for a moment, her expression wilting somewhat. "I shouldn't have acted the way I did. I guess…it was just a little bit too much to be in all of this for a while. Without…you know, holding judgement. But…I know that you can do the same thing I did, Hiro. There's no reason at all that you can't."

Hiro hesitated. When he spoke next, his voice was congested and thick. "But what's the point?" Gogo's eyes flickered over at the question, but she didn't try to speak, knowing that Hiro would just go on. And her assumption was soon proven correct. "What's the point of doing anything? It's just— we're machines." He began rambling, his voice turning quick. Gogo frowned, but resigned herself to silence. Just listening. "We're made one day without warning, composed of interconnecting parts that are just destined to wear themselves out, regardless of any precaution we could possibly take." He was getting upset, his hands and arms moving in a nervous fashion. Still, she just watched, refusing to interrupt. "It doesn't matter what happens in the middle— one day, the parts are going to wear out; everything we could possibly do to prevent it will be meaningless. Every single thing we do is for nothing. Our parts are going to give out."

Baymax was bending over slightly, as if trying to comfort Hiro with more warmth. Yet the boy just went on. "What's the use in getting better if everything just comes to an end? Everything Tadashi did…" His voice choked slightly. "Everything Tadashi…it didn't matter how amazing he was. How smart or how much he was going to do later on…he still died." His voice dripped with anger at the point. Though it was quickly lost as he spoke next. "We're all machines with parts that are going to fail regardless. So what's the point of getting better?"

The question hung in between them heavily. The weight of it almost made it hard to breathe. Gogo blinked, looking steadily at his worn expression. A kid his age…they shouldn't look so beaten. So hopeless. Kids his age should be making snowballs and snowmen in the snow— not lay down in it listlessly and ask what the point of going on was. Gogo took her time in replying, distracted by the situation itself. How had it gotten from here? How had it gotten from them all inside a garage laughing at badly-written movies, to now? Laying in the snow, grasping at straws as desperately as humanly possible?

How had it gotten this way?

…A silly thought, of course.

She knew exactly how.

She tried to offer him another smile. Though she could tell that it was a little bit more fragile in comparison to her other one. "That's the point, Genius," she replied. Hiro blinked, his expression going unchanged. She looked at him and offered the smallest of shrugs. "It's not the beginning or end that's important. That part's the same for everyone. So…" She tried to think of something that could be seen as encouraging. You could not argue with the inevitability of it all. But you could argue for at least one thing. "It's the thing in the middle that's the most important. That you gotta focus on." She tilted her head to the side. "That's the point of everything."

Hiro didn't say anything. His eyes seemed to get shinier in the dawn light.

Gogo looked at him encouragingly. "Yeah, the machine will break down at some point. But it doesn't have to be for a long, _long_, time." She raised her arms, showing her hands in an imploring way. "And won't it be great to see what that machine will _accomplish _until that time?"

(•-•)(•-•)(•-•)(•-•)(•-•)(•-•)(•-•)(•-•)(•-•)(•-•)(•-•)(•-•)(•-•)(•-•)(•-•)(•-•)(•-•)(•-•)(•-•)

Once the others woke up and realized who was missing, there was a small burst of panic. Hiro was gone, as well as Baymax and Gogo. Honey Lemon wasted no time at all before she called Gogo and demanded to know whether or not they were all together. And if so, why. All that she got in reply was a vague promise that they would be back soon. This only brought a sense of confusion over the others. Where had they all gone? And out of everyone to go somewhere with Hiro, why was it _Gogo_?

Honey Lemon was undeniably the most worried and concerned— from the moment she saw that the three were missing, she was pacing and biting her nails. Her eyebrows were bunched together, and she walked back and forth in front of the mantle, too on-edge by this point to try and hide it. Was Hiro hurt? What was going on? Gogo had been the _least _sympathetic to Hiro throughout all this. What if she was yelling at him right now? What if something went wrong and they just had absolutely no idea? What would they do!?

Fred was sitting in the chair, looking up at Honey Lemon with a tired expression. None of them had really gotten enough sleep at all. "Honey Lemon, don't worry so much," he said, though Honey could instantly tell that he was less than hopeful even as he spoke. He reached up and rubbed wearily at his forehead, shaking his head. "It's probably fine. You might just be getting worked up over nothing, you know?"

"Gogo has been the least helpful this entire time!" she blustered, the words slipping out of her mouth before she could stop it in any way. Fred opened his mouth to say something but sighed instead, wilting as he took it back. Wasabi was standing nearer to the entrance of the living room, keeping an anxious eye out for the three, just as puzzled as the others to where the trio had gone. He looked over at Honey Lemon as she let this slip, looking a little disheartened. She looked from one of them to the other, her expression strained. "I mean— am I wrong?" she demanded. Still, nobody spoke, and she pressed: "Out of _everyone_, it's _Gogo _to disappear with him? After everything that happened last night!? He's fragile, Fred! What if she…I don't know, what if she does something wrong!? What if she says something wrong!?"

Fred seemed distraught, but his reply came nevertheless. "It'll be okay, Honey Lemon," he urged weakly. "If anything had gone wrong, we would have heard about it now, right? It's probably fine. Just— c'mon, just sit down, okay?" He shook his head, reaching up to pull his beanie down so that it was much snugger on his head. "How about we go cook something for breakfast?" Technically it was appropriate to eat now. Though it was still way too early. Usually Fred could sleep until one in the afternoon. Recently he'd gotten no sleep in comparison. None of them had. It was clear that it was beginning to wear them down.

"I'm not hungry," Honey Lemon grumbled, crossing her arms over her chest and turning away with pursed lips. She was offended that he'd even tried to distract her with something so trivial when something like this was going on. Where _were _they!? "Gogo texted me five minutes go!" she huffed, looking down at her phone with a glower. Fred shook his head and looked away. Wasabi drew his hands through his hair with the smallest hint of a grimace. "Where are they? What could they be doing?"

Wasabi tried his hand at helping. "Maybe they just got sidetracked?" he volunteered. Honey Lemon threw him an impatient look, though she was more impatient with herself than anything else. "You know how huge this place is, right? They could get turned around. Especially Hiro, who hasn't really been around to get the layout of this place."

Honey Lemon was not satisfied. Even if Hiro got turned around, Gogo knew this place well enough to know how to get back to the den. And certainly, if nothing else, Baymax should have a handle on the house structure and pathways. If they really were together, then they would be able to get back here without any problem at all. So it didn't make sense that they hadn't made it back yet. She bristled as the thought crossed her mind, and she opened her mouth to state such. But whatever she was building collapsed on the tip of her tongue.

From the left, the three that had been the source of the bemusement and slight confrontation entered. Baymax was at the head, closely followed by Hiro and then Gogo. Honey Lemon straightened at once with their arrival, her eyes widening considerably. Nobody in the incoming party seemed affected at all. Gogo looked calm— content, even, in a way. Honey Lemon looked immediately for Hiro, her chest constricting with a sense of concern. He was still wearing Tadashi's hat, and it was pulled down low over his head. He still looked tired and weary, still fit to fall asleep. His steps were measured thanks to the brace that was still on his ankle, and his expression seemed weighted down by something. For a moment, he looked completely unchanged, and Honey Lemon began to flare up and bristle.

Gogo offered the others a small grin. "Sorry if we worried you," she said fairly. "But I didn't want to wake you guys up. You all could use the rest." She looked over at Fred, noting the fact that his eyes were still rimmed with dark shadows. Her expression softened a little bit. "You look like you could still use a few winks, though." She was trying to seem aloof. But Honey Lemon noticed the uncomfortable kind of edge to her tone at once. She looked from Hiro to Gogo, her eyes slightly narrowed.

Fred stood up from where he had been sitting, trying to catch Hiro's eye so he could offer the boy a smile. Eventually Hiro noticed the attention, perking a little bit underneath Fred's stare. Fred put forth a small grin, and for a heartbeat or more, Hiro just stared right through it. Then he blinked, lifting the edges of his lips ever so slightly to grimace back a smile that didn't even touch his eyes. It was a weak effort at the very most, but Fred lightened significantly at it. His smile grew wider and he was brave enough to put forth a direct question to Hiro. "So where did you two head off to? It's barely morning."

Hiro blinked. He shrugged one shoulder. Then he mumbled under his breath: "Just…sat outside."

Gogo shoved her hands into her pockets. "They were loitering around in the backyard when I found them. We just talked for a while." Honey Lemon puffed up even more at this. They talked? About what? What was even going on? Suddenly Gogo was having a change of heart? Wasn't that a little late? She crossed her arms over her chest, biting down on her lower lip. Gogo glanced her way, but if she noticed her friend's growing irritation and confusion, she didn't show it. Instead she just cleared her throat. "Anyway, I'm starving. We should have breakfast or something before my stomach collapses in on itself."

Honey Lemon caught Hiro glancing over at Gogo from the corner of his eye. He seemed to be thinking about something.

Fred nodded. "Yeah, I was just going to get on that," he said. He turned to look back at Hiro with an eager expression. "Are you hungry, Hiro? What do you want to eat? I can get pretty much anything!" Hiro jerked, surprised at the sound of his name. He was jarred out of whatever thoughts he was in, blinking rapidly as he turned. His mouth opened halfway, though nothing came out. He closed it after a moment. With the way he reacted, Fred's question could have been some impossible math equation. Frowning a little bit, Fred look at Baymax, his eyebrows raised. "Uh…do you think that there's anything he should eat…or…?"

The question was awkward. Fred looked worriedly over at Hiro, for fear that his lack of foresight might cause him to get angry. Honey Lemon was right, for all her worrying and fretting. After last night, it was clear that nobody really knew what to do. Whether or not they should talk about it or just go on like it never even happened in the first place. Fred didn't mean any ill will by the question— he hardly ever meant such in any kind of situation. He just wanted to help reinforce Hiro to be better as much as possible. If he had made such progress last night, couldn't he make more? Or was this going too fast? What pace was right? What constituted as too slow? Should they be worried?

Baymax didn't get a chance to answer. Surprisingly, Hiro spoke up.

His hands were shoved into the front pocket of his hoodie, and his sleeves were pulled down snugly all the way past his wrists. His shoulders were hunched, and his voice came out muffled and quiet. Nothing about the way he held himself was really impressive or confident. It was the exact opposite. But everyone immediately was snapped into attention the moment he opened his mouth. Although it was quiet as a mouse, it was a vast change of how things normally were around here. They could all count on one hand the number of times that Hiro had taken such initiative as to speak clearly enough to be heard by everyone. The fact that it was happening now was nothing short of a shocking relief.

"Actually, I'm not hungry," he said listlessly. The others hesitated, unsure as to what their reply should be. Hiro had started out lanky and thin— after everything that had happened, it was getting really unhealthy for him to avoid food like it was the plague. They could see it in his weak stature and his baggy clothes. Wasabi's forehead creased and he opened his mouth, clearly preparing to try and rival the wish. But Hiro went on, his expression falling somewhat at the lack of reply. "I just…I'd rather just go take a shower or something…"

Wasabi shut his mouth. He looked over at Fred, who responded by shrugging. He didn't see why they should start a fight. In the grand scheme of things, they had to pick and choose what wars they were willing to wage. Certainly they only had a set amount of arsenal before everything depleted and this whole thing crashed? Why waste it all up now over something trivial? And besides— maybe Hiro would want to have something to eat after his shower. Even a bite of anything would be better than nothing. Fred paused a moment or two, leaving Baymax room to interject. But the robot didn't. So eventually Fred caved. "Sure, yeah. Whatever you wanna do. Everything's there."

Hiro nodded a few times, looking down at the ground. An awkward silence settled over the room for a heartbeat or two, and Hiro broke it with a small mumble. "Thanks." Not looking up at the others, he turned and started back the way he'd come. Baymax immediately took his role as caretaker and turned alongside him. He waddled slowly after Hiro, stepping in his tracks like a baby duckling would. As they departed for their room, Fred could hear Baymax begin to launch into the facts and basics of showers— what they did for physical and mental health. Like he had been ordered to do.

Fred kept an ear out to listen for Hiro, waiting for him snap at Baymax to be quiet or say that he didn't need anything else from him.

But there was nothing.

He turned to look over at Gogo, still a tad confused. "What happened?" he asked, almost having to hold back a smile. Sure, he was bemused over what happened. On the inside, he was slightly jealous that Gogo had been the one to find him. But in the short four minutes that Hiro had been inside the living room he hadn't spat or glared or hissed or scowled. He didn't look happy, no, he still seemed far too sad and weighted down. But he hadn't been crying like he had last night. And he hadn't looked at the four of them like they were some kind of torturous sadists. He had talked. He'd actually said something that wasn't a screech or a yell.

Gogo shrugged. She looked tired. "I woke up and he wasn't here. I freaked out and thought of waking you guys up, but I tried to find him first. He was in the backyard with Baymax. So I sat down with him and we just…sorted some stuff out." She paused, looking a tad unsure. She stepped to the side and looked over her shoulder, down the way that Hiro had gone. Then she added a little softer: "At least…I think we did. Possibly."

Wasabi was invested completely. "What did he say? Did he say anything about last night?"

"Well, I was the one who asked him about last night," Gogo confessed. Honey Lemon jerked at this, and the fact was not missed to Gogo, who turned to look at her. "I didn't yell at him for it or anything. I just…asked him what he was thinking. He said what you would think he'd say." Her voice was low— she didn't want to be overheard by Hiro just in case he had decide to linger a bit in the halls. "So I told him that he was strong. That he shouldn't look down on himself." She blinked and looked down at the ground. Her voice was a littler quieter as she said: "You know…things that people like that need to hear."

Honey Lemon spoke up, and her voice was barbed and sharp. Fred cringed at the tone of voice she used. "That's an awfully big change from where you were standing last night," she said. Gogo looked up at this, not seeming surprised at all by Honey Lemon's reaction. "Or throughout this entire thing, basically," Honey Lemon went on, the edge to her voice almost scathing as she crossed her arms tighter over her chest. "How come we've been trying to hold his hand this entire time and you're _just now _deciding to jump on the bandwagon? It's not fair to him. It's _certainly _not fair to us."

Wasabi sighed, ducking his head. "Honey Lemon…" he tried.

But to everyone's surprise, it was Gogo who shot him down. "No, Wasabi; she has a point," she sighed. She paused for a few moments, seeming to gather herself up. She cleared her throat and shook her head before meeting Honey Lemon's gaze. Her expression was more than apologetic. "I…I haven't been the best person here. Nowhere close to it, really. I've been…on-edge and dragging things into this situation that I shouldn't have. I took it out on you." She turned to look over at Fred as well. "I took it on you, too. I should have been helping but I've really just been acting stupid."

Fred offered her a grin. "Well…maybe not _entirely _stupid. You had some good points. Here and there."

Gogo turned back to Honey Lemon. She looked pained. "From now on I'm going to help make things work. Here. Not anywhere else." Honey Lemon still seemed a little off-put, but her arms were slowly dropping back down to her sides. Her expression of anger was quickly crumbling. It wasn't like she had a history of being able to stay mad for long, too. "I'm going to make amends with Hiro and I'm going to make amends with you guys too." She looked from one person to another. "We're not going to fight anymore. Not like we have been doing, at least. I know that now. We're in this together. Us, _and _Hiro. Right?"

Honey Lemon titled her head to the side. She was still confused. Looking at Gogo now, Honey Lemon could tell that there was something she wasn't saying. Something she was keeping back. The reason that she had changed to this mindset, or the thing that she had dragged into this situation— she wasn't telling either of those things. Honey started to wonder whether or not she could ask about it, and maybe clear up a few of her question marks. But going by the look that was written over Gogo's face, she could tell that it wouldn't be wise to push her friend. If Gogo wanted to say it, she would. Or maybe Honey Lemon would keep it in her mind to ask about at a better date.

She would certainly remember, that was for sure.

Right now, she just melted and offered her friend a smile. Relief seemed to pour out from her. "Good," she all but sighed. "Because I was really starting to wonder whether or not we were going to be able to pull this thing off." She was only half-teasing with this. She could tell that the others felt the same way she did; they were still reaching for something to finish the story or make it complete. But, just like Honey, they knew enough to curb it at this point. They could all tell – even Fred, which was impressive – that such a question would not be wise.

In itself, that was amazing enough. That they were all falling into rhythm with one another again.

"We'll pull it off," Gogo said, determination hard in her voice. "Tadashi Hamada was our _best _friend. We owe it to him."

Honey Lemon murmured agreement. Fred nodded in earnest.

Wasabi added: "We owe it to Hiro, too."

(•-•)(•-•)(•-•)(•-•)(•-•)(•-•)(•-•)(•-•)(•-•)(•-•)(•-•)(•-•)(•-•)(•-•)(•-•)(•-•)(•-•)(•-•)(•-•)

A little bit over an hour later and Hiro came back. He actually came back out.

He was wearing new clothes, though it wasn't very noticeable. He was still wearing jeans and a hoodie that looked far too big for him. His hair was damp and it was still unkempt and messy. But he looked better at least— people always did after a shower. He looked more refreshed. A tiny bit calmer. The others were putting away the last of their mess they'd made in the living room. Folding blankets and putting back pillows where they belonged. Wasabi and Gogo had left to find some staff to order food. Fred was teaching Honey Lemon how to work the TV. The remote had been confusing her ever since she got here. He was right in the middle of telling her what the 'Menu' button did, when Hiro came into the room.

The two perked instantly, turning to look over their shoulders. Hiro was standing close to Baymax, Tadashi's hat pulled down over his still-slightly-wet hair. His hands were shoved into his pockets, and he still carried that reclusive kind of air around with him. "Hey!" Fred greeted, as if he hadn't seen him in a year or so. Instead of it just being sixty minutes ago. Hiro blinked at the greeting, looking unsure of what to say. Taking initiative, Fred turned back to the television. "We were just going to find something to watch, what do you say? Wanna pop a squat?"

Hiro wasn't exactly sure what that was supposed to mean. But regardless, he turned and settled himself down on the couch. He drew his legs up to his chest and rested his head down on his knees, looking at the screen with just the faintest sign of interest. Honey Lemon turned to look meaningfully over in Fred's direction, silently encouraging him to act. The others weren't here, but it was a trivial detail. They might as well ask now.

"Oh, right." Fred cleared his throat, spinning around so that he could look up at Hiro from the floor. "Hiro, we were all thinking about something last night, and we thought you might like it." Hiro blinked, looking from the screen of the TV to Fred. He didn't say anything, but he raised his eyebrows in a sign that he was listening. Fred was certainly going to take that. Offering Hiro the most brilliant smile he could come up with, Fred seemed a little bit too excited as he went on. "We figured that we all needed a little bit of a distraction from everything, you know? We thought it would be fun to focus on something else."

Honey Lemon coined in to help, her voice just as perky. "We thought it might be a good idea to start celebrating Christmas!" They had put it off for when Hiro would be better. Then it would be the most fun. But maybe it was better to do it now, when he was still rocky. This way he could think of something other than what was going on. Christmas might be just the thing to help him get better. And…well, if it didn't turn out the way they wanted, they could always cut it short. But they just landed on the consensus that maybe Christmas shouldn't be a reward for Hiro for when he got to be okay. It should be another stepping stone to help him along.

At first, Hiro didn't react. He seemed a little bit surprised, if anything. Silence fell over the room, and it was only broken by the boy's repeat of: "…Christmas…?" It was like he'd forgotten the holiday existed. And, to be fair, nobody would blame him or be surprised if such a thing were the case.

Fred remained upbeat. "Sure! Tinsel, Rudolph— the whole nine yards of it. We thought it might be fun."

He sat on the idea for about a full minute in silence. Baymax was watching him carefully. The robot looked like he was in deep thought. A frown was weighing over Hiro's face, and for a split second, Honey Lemon was trying to think of what they would say if Hiro shot down the prospect. Fred seemed to feel the same way as his smile wavered and shook. But eventually Hiro leaned back further into the couch, pulling down Tadashi's hat even more. "Sure." It wasn't given with much feeling or gusto. He couldn't rival Fred's enthusiasm, let alone match it. But it was an acceptance nonetheless. Fred and Honey Lemon broke into twin smiles as Hiro went on. He took off Tadashi's hat, putting it down in his lap, but keeping a sure hold on it. "Sure, why not."

Fred leapt up to his feet. Hiro jumped in surprise, his eyes wide as he looked at Fred like he had sprouted a second head. "Aw, great!" Fred cheered. "This is going to be great! We've already got the Christmas tree up in the parlor, but we can decorate everything else! The whole house! We can set up stockings and we can hang lights and we can roast chestnuts on an open fire! I've never done it before, but I've heard that apparently it's really good! We can listen to Christmas music and sing along! This is going to be the best Christmas ever, I'll swear by it!"

Hiro turned and looked over at Baymax. The robot had turned his attention to Fred, his head tilted to the side. Out of the blue, he decided to speak. "Your neurotransmitter levels are elevated. This indicates that you are happy."

Hiro's face fell.

"Psh! It's _Christmas_," Fred emphasized. "It makes everyone happy. It's like…a Christmas rule."

Baymax straightened. "I see," he reasoned. "I must educate myself on the occasion, I suppose. I had no idea that there were rules and regulations to abide by." He blinked and turned over to look at Hiro. He was staring at the robot in an odd way, his eyes rounded out as he stared up at him. With the way he was looking at the medical robot, it was like Hiro had never seen him before. Baymax cocked his head and asked: "Do you understand this? Could you teach me the rules?"

Fred seemed to find this hilarious. He turned back to the TV, shaking his head and suppressing his laughter as he tried to find something that everyone would want to watch. They could all sit around and eat lunch and watch something. Maybe even Hiro would eat. Honey Lemon was still watching Hiro though, finding that there was something different in his expression as he just took to staring at Baymax. She narrowed her eyes, trying to make sense of it. Was it something bad? She didn't want to ask outright, for fear of upsetting him further. But curiosity and concern nibbled at her nerves incessantly.

Baymax pressed Hiro for assistance. "You must educate me on 'Christmas.'"

Hiro still didn't reply. He just stared up at Baymax with that same different look. After a heartbeat, he tore his gaze away to look down to his lap instead, where Tadashi's hat was resting. He smoothed his thumb over its brim slowly, his eyes narrowing somewhat as his forehead creased. Still that look. As if he had suddenly found himself in deep thought over something important.

That, or he was just trying desperately to avoid some sort of realization.

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A/N: I might go back and fix the ending. It's one in the morning after Christmas and I'm so tired. I wanted to get this out to you as a little present, so I forced myself to stay awake. In effect, I fear there might be typos or room for improvement in here. I would love for anyone to point it out if they see anything. I can certainly fix it. And if anyone has questions, feel free to ask those as well. I'd be glad to clear anything up that might come across as stupid and/or fuzzy from my one in the morning writing style.

I just typed that whole paragraph with my eyes closed, isn't that impressive. coughsadcough.

Thank you for reading! I hope I hear from you in reviews to get your thoughts and feedback.

Merry Christmas! I hope everyone had a happy holiday! ;)


	20. Chapter 20

A/N: I apologize for the lack of updates. This story means a lot to me in a very personal way, but I've made a commitment to my other stories and it is one that I will have to upkeep. I update based on reviews, and unfortunately, this story doesn't garner many. Therefore, updates will be a lot more delayed with this story than in comparison to my others. I won't abandon it— I would never do that. But I _am_ forced to focus on other stories, who _do _get at least ten reviews a chapter. After all, getting feedback for my stories is my main reason for being on this site.

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_'Oh, the weather outside is frightful._

_ But the fire is so delightful._

_ And since we've no place to go…_

_ Let it snow, let it snow, let it snow!_

_ It doesn't show signs of stopping…'_

Fred had set his phone on Bluetooth and connected it to a speaker that was mounted up on top of the mantle. Christmas music filled the room and seemed to make it a little brighter; however, such a thing wasn't all that hard to do. For days on end, the house had seemed darker than the deepest shadow, and drearier than a morgue. Just this – even as weak an attempt as putting on a belated Christmas – was enough to shed a little glimmer of hope where before there was absolutely none. This glimmer wasn't even all that large to begin with. It was miniscule at most.

But there was an old saying that said something along the lines of: "Beggars can't be choosers."

The soft music served as a backdrop to the group's activities. Activities originating as a more vague term, because even they didn't have an exact term for what they were doing. It was too broad a spectrum to give it a single name. They started out the morning just cleaning the house, in preparation for whatever they were about to do. But the house wasn't that dirty to begin with, so that didn't last as long as they'd hoped. They moved on afterwards and tried to focus on unpacking the decorations— there was quite a lot of it, but predictably, they couldn't stretch that on for more than about ten or twenty minutes, even with Fred's large collection of Christmas items.

The point of today was what Fred had initiated at first— they were hoping to provide a distraction to Hiro and help him maybe sense something other than his severe depression, or anything that came along with it. Christmas wasn't nearly as important to them as Hiro was; if the holiday did not serve a purpose in trying to help him, they wouldn't do it. Even if all Hiro felt was boredom, at least that was lesser evil. But everything they had planned seemed to expire much too quickly. And then they would be forced to scramble for something else to fill the time with.

Unpacking lasted about fifteen minutes. Then they shifted over to spend their time organizing it to stretch the time even longer. That lasted five minutes; it was mostly organized already. So then it had to be hanging mistletoe, and that took about ten minutes because Wasabi had a thing with ladders. Once that was checked off, things transpired into getting out the tree. It was a plastic one that came in pieces. They started into its set up, but after about forty minutes, they realized that it was pointless. It was too much heavy lifting and manual labor, and after unpacking the initial boxes, Hiro was too exhausted to do anything of the sort. All that time with no sleep and little food, and it took its form as light wheezing and a paled-over face.

So they went into cooking, and that lasted for the better part of the day. Gogo was pretty decent— she could follow the directions on the back of a box, that is. But Honey Lemon and Wasabi were surprisingly amazing cooks. They had all of their own recipes for things like cakes and cookies. They had many to pick from, yet they confined themselves to one each at least for tonight. And so for a while, they cooked and asked for help doing a simple chore to two here— things like cracking an egg that any simple-minded person could achieve with little concentration. Simple-minded being Fred and Hiro, who spent the rest of the time sitting at the counter of the kitchen watching.

Throughout all of this, Hiro was mostly silent. He replied in a minimal words when he was spoken to, and surprisingly, he did not complain when he was asked to do something. Fred had tested this, when he asked Hiro if he could go and get him his phone so he could switch the song that was playing. His phone was only a few feet away or so— they were in the kitchen, and his phone had been discarded over on the counter near the stove. He'd anticipated either a dry comment, or at least a roll of the eyes. But Hiro had just turned and slipped limply off his stool, plodding over and fetching it for him neatly. Baymax followed him closely, despite the little to no distance.

The others talked and laughed— enough between the four of them to fill the silence that Hiro was creating. The topics ranged, and all along, everyone knew that they were really just waiting for Hiro to interject in a conversation that actually interested him. But he never did. He simply sat on the stool with a glum or absent look. In anybody would look his way, they might assume that he wasn't paying attention to anything. Whenever he did manage a reply, it was always clipped and vague. But at least he was staying— not turning and slinking off to hole himself up in his room. That was enough for them to swallow.

Honey Lemon was trying the hardest out of all of them to wriggle conversation out of him. While the others were trying to entice Hiro into speaking by talking themselves and hoping that he would hop on board, Honey Lemon would often step to the side and try to build her own line of dialogue with him. Nobody else was really brave enough to do the same; that, or she had just been the first one to take initiative, and they didn't want to overload him. Gogo glanced their way a few times, her expression oddly seeming along the lines of sympathetic. However, she did not interrupt or curb her friend's consistent efforts.

A few times, Honey Lemon tried to speak with him. Fred listened in on one of her tries, anxious to know what Hiro's reaction would be, but trying not to seem too obvious with his concern. Anything more, and they had the potential to cause Hiro to completely shut down. Or at least, that was the fear. So he just listened in to Honey Lemon. She'd turned away from her work of stirring together some kind of special cookie batter. Wasabi and Gogo had departed to the fridge, in search for some ingredients. Fred made it seem like he was on his phone, when really, he was just keeping an ear out.

She'd turned and leaned over the counter a little bit, flashing Hiro a tiny grin. "Hey," she'd said, her expression slightly hopeful as she waited for a response. Hiro had blinked, looking up from studying the granite countertop. He hadn't looked enthused at conversation, but he hadn't rejected her either. So she'd gone on, encouraged if only a tiny bit. "I was thinking maybe later we could go outside and build a snowman. I usually make one every year— it's a little silly, but it's something I love to do. Do…you have any traditions you'd want to do? You don't have to keep doing whatever we say. This is your holiday too, you know."

Fred had waited for Hiro's reply with bated breath. It had come after a long beat of hesitation. "I dunno." Hiro had shifted back down to looking at the countertop. Baymax had been studying him carefully, like he'd done all morning. But Hiro had stopped noticing it, it seemed; that, or he just didn't care anymore. "I don't really feel like doing anything, really. It's fine."

Honey Lemon had been disappointed; Fred could tell by the way her smile had wilted ever so slightly. But she'd gone on, regardless: "Are you sure?" she'd prompted gently. "I think you'd be having a lot more fun if you maybe…just invested yourself a bit more. Not that you already aren't, of course. But…I just want to see you a little bit happier. Or…maybe more smiling." Hiro had glanced at her with this, and she had raised her eyebrows imploringly. "I feel like I haven't seen you smile in ages."

Hiro had blinked slowly at the words, something in his expression seeming to change or weaken. Fred had wanted to turn around and decipher the shift a little bit more, but he'd been smarter than that. Any more excess attention wasn't something that would probably have been taken well. Honey Lemon had seemed disheartened enough at the primary expression that had been aimed her way. Then, looking as if he had been stifling a sigh, Hiro dragged the edges of his lips up into a grin that couldn't be anything but completely and utterly forced. It hadn't reached his eyes at all, and even the twist of his lips looked fake and dishonest.

Hiro had aimed the weak smile in Honey Lemon's direction before it had disappeared completely. Then, he turned and looked back down at the counter, turning to trace invisible images on the surface. The moment was over before it had even started, really. Honey Lemon deflated, pulling back to herself. She'd turn and looked over at Fred, seeming at a loss of what to do. He'd just shrugged in return. They'd gotten this far; they didn't know how far to push, or when to stop. And if they pushed too far once, that could be the end of it. They had to be careful.

So Honey Lemon had given up there.

Thirty minutes later, and Gogo was done cooking. She had given up on her batch of cookies, finding that once she mistook flour with sugar and mixed the whole recipe up, it was decided that she was not going to be San Fransokyo's next up and coming chef. She threw it all away and went over to resign herself back to decorating. Fred and Hiro followed suit, leaving Honey Lemon and Wasabi to wrap up their own dishes. The pair promised that they wouldn't be too much longer. That they would catch up soon.

Gogo and Fred went to work on the tree. They gave Hiro the less physical labor of hanging stockings. Predictably, Hiro took the job without a single reaction of any kind. Not even the smallest flicker of emotion to betray the fact that he might not enjoy what he was doing. Or he even liked what he was doing. He just looked completely blank and apathetic with everything.

Fred and Gogo were trying to create conversation. It wasn't really a very interesting topic, really. And every so often, it jumped to new and sporadic topics, too unfocused and bland to stay on one tracked line. Neither of them were really bothered by it though. Because they were more focused on trying to keep the atmosphere light— for Hiro's sake. And they were already just so relieved to have things the way they were now. Hiro was actually out, and he was staying as such. That was enough to let them go along with things well enough to make it seem as if they were alright.

Because, in comparison to what had been happening before, it _was_.

They were just hoping that it would stay that way.

Honey Lemon and Wasabi came out shortly and started to help put the tree together. The songs melted one into the other, and they made good progress with their work. The others faster than Hiro, that is. The tree was put together neatly, and they were starting to arrange the plastic branches by the time that Hiro had hung up the third stocking. Often, he would stop and hesitate between one and the other, his eyes clouded and guarded as he took to staring at the fire that was flickering underneath. He had these still episodes where he just stood and did nothing else but gawk. Then, he would suddenly blink and straighten, as if roused from a dream. He would turn and go back to work, as if nothing had happened at all.

The others were well aware of the spurts. They would look over at Hiro, who had become a blank statue, and they would silently look at one another and ask what they should do. But it wasn't too long before Hiro would resolve it himself. Jerk and turn and bend down to pick up another stocking with a small grimace of pain with a shift on his braced ankle. He'd go back to his work and pin up the next one. Baymax was standing in between the two groups. He too noticed the way that Hiro took to spacing out. But to the others' surprise, he didn't try and interrupt him either. He just watched him. The others took after his lead, albeit skeptically.

The song transitioned.

'_Have yourself, a merry little Christmas._

_Let your heart be light._

_From now on, our troubles will be out of sight._

_Have yourself a merry little Christmas…'_

"Hiro." Baymax spoke up eventually. The others completely stopped in whatever conversation they were half-having, once the robot moved to speak to Hiro directly. Instead, they took to listening intently. They tried not to make it seem like they were, but it was probably painfully obvious. Baymax kept where he was, yet he tilted his head to the side in an inquisitive sort of gesture. Hiro blinked, letting his arms fall loosely back to his side. He'd just finished up the forth stocking. Progress. He stuffed his hands into the front pocket of his hoodie. He did not reply to Baymax, or look over at him. But he took to staring at the fire, falling still. Waiting.

Baymax took this as a good enough show of attention. "Hiro, will you tell me about this?" he asked. Hiro just blinked, still staying mute. Silence stretched in between them, and Baymax moved to elaborate. "Will you tell about Christmas? I was programmed with the widespread knowledge of all that is medical and medical care. I've taken the liberty to download everything about depression and familial loss in order to try and help you with what you are going through. And I think that my knowledge of what is going on could add to your enjoyment of the festivities. I could take part in them with you."

Hiro still didn't reply. He just stared at the flame, his gaze heavy. Weighing nearly a million pounds. His eyebrows were pulled together, and his shoulders were noticeably tense underneath the cloth of his sweatshirt. He swallowed hard. Wasabi's eyes flickered in sorrow, and he started to wonder not for the first time whether or not it was painfully insensitive of them to be doing all of this. What if Hiro just wasn't ready for any of this? What if he just needed more time?

The silence stretched on, and Wasabi cleared his throat, holding back a cringe. "Baymax, maybe you shouldn't—"

"What do you want to know?" Hiro asked in a mutter.

The others shut up immediately. Nearly all of their eyes widened in shock. They didn't say anything.

Baymax seemed to consider the question with heavy thought. It took him quite a long time to land on one specific aspect, it seemed. That, or he was just scanning Hiro and seeing something in the boy that the others could not. But he turned, looking over at the plastic Christmas tree in the corner of the large living room. "Why do you put a tree inside of the home?" he asked eventually. Hiro turned, glancing over at the fir, as if to see it for himself. The others hurriedly reacted and jerked back into work as he looked over at them, trying to make it seem as if their attention had not strayed. "It seems like quite a lot of work," Baymax noted. "And it does not seem very logical."

Hiro stared at the tree for some time. It was as if he was just now seeing it and noticing its presence. His expression flickered. Then he tore his gaze away from the thing and looked back at the fire. For a second, it seemed like he'd drop the conversation there and just refuse to answer. But it wasn't the case. He offered a listless shrug. "Christmas doesn't have to be logical," he mumbled. "You hang socks up on the fireplace, it's already pretty senseless." There was another long pause. Then, Hiro added in a just as small grumble: "Presents go under the tree. That's why the tree's there."

Baymax looked from Hiro, to the Christmas tree. "You put presents underneath the tree?" he questioned. "Why do you that? Is there a reason? What type of presents are put underneath?" The questions streamed out faster than Hiro could stop to answer them— faster than he wanted to stop and answer them. It was clear by the look on his face that he would much rather preferred the robot to just stop talking altogether. His expression grew from apathetic to slightly distressed and worn-out. Again, Wasabi tried to get Baymax to stop, wondering what the robot thought he was doing, when he was cut off. Again.

Hiro answered in a short, curt manner. "You just…put anything underneath," he said lamely. He wasn't quite staring straight into the fire anymore. It was almost like he was staring through it instead. His voice was quieter when he replied; he sounded distracted, and looked the part as well. "You just…put things underneath," he repeated. "Things that will make people…happy." The last word came out a little weaker than the rest of them. Softer, and less defined.

Baymax seemed to perk at this. "You put things underneath the tree that will make people happy?" he asked for clarification. Again, he was looking in between Hiro and the tree. He seemed to be drawing some of his own conclusions, and by this point, the others had drifted away from their work quite obviously again. Their guard had slipped a second time now; they could only hope that Hiro wouldn't look their way. Such rapt attention could come off awkward. Again, Baymax demanded more details. "These presents? There are no requirements as to what it could be? To make people glad?"

Hiro glanced over at the robot. His expression was a bit wary now. But he did reply all the same. "No. It can be anything. I guess." He looked away again, almost in a hurried manner. He blinked a few times, and then reached up to readjust Tadashi's hat. He pulled it down a tad lower, hiding away underneath the brim. Silence congested the room. Nobody spoke. Minutes passed that seemed more like hours until there was a change.

There was a rustling sound; shuffles that seemed like it was from a scuffle or something related. There was a high squeak of surprise, coming from Honey Lemon, going by the higher pitch. Hiro jerked in surprise, put-off at the sudden clamor. He hesitated a heartbeat before turning, realizing that the others had stepped away from where they had been standing a few moments before. He didn't realize why, at first, and started to open his mouth to ask what their surprised expressions were from. But he turned to follow their gazes, his own expression clearing in a sense of bemusement.

Baymax was curled up on the ground, having wedged himself awkwardly underneath the fir tree, which was now left to bulge humorously with him crammed underneath. The robot was looking up from the crowd of needles, blinking slowly once Hiro turned to look down in his direction. His eyebrows pulled together awkwardly. He wasn't sure what to do, so he didn't do anything at all. He was too stunned. Baymax seemed to think his actions would speak for themselves; he didn't say a single word either. The two of them just stared at one another. Completely silent.

The song switched again.

'_The snow's coming down._

_I'm watching it fall._

_Lots of people around._

_Baby please come home…'_

Baymax tilted his head to the side. "Is it working?" he asked.

Hiro opened his mouth to reply, but he found that nothing could come out. He was mute, grasping for something to say. Something he could spit out or yell back. To shove him away and dismiss him without a single doubt to make the robot hopeful that he had 'gotten through' to him. But he couldn't think of it, let alone get it off of his tongue. Honey Lemon blinked, glancing over at Hiro with a subdued expression. Wasabi did the same, his eyebrows knitting in thought. Soon after though, he turned and moved over.

He followed Baymax. Crouched down and shuffled over so that he was at least halfway underneath the tree as well. It was clear by his initial expression that he thought it a little bit more than awkward to maneuver into. But he tucked his legs up against his chest and craned his neck to the side to look up at Hiro anyway. The teenager grew even more dumbstruck. His expression froze into one of confusion, and he still kept up the effort to spit something out. At the moment, he'd take anything. The silence was starting to deafen him.

He tried to find something to say. He was grasping at straws. He didn't have the time to find anything before the other remaining three followed suit. The Christmas tree was much larger than normal ones, considering this place was about fifteen times the size of normal houses. They all managed to crowd underneath the tree, with a little bit of difficulty. Certainly, once they all squeezed in, there wasn't a single inch of available space. And Fred' legs were sticking out entirely. But they all managed the feat.

They didn't say anything. Hiro and the others had something in common with this. Tadashi's friends just looked up at Hiro, their expressions a little wary of his reaction as they waited. Hiro just blinked, his expression falling as his shoulders drooped. Again, Baymax asked: "Is this working, Hiro? I am underneath the tree. Do I count as a present? Are you happy yet?" The others didn't offer to help Baymax in speaking, but they did look up at Hiro imploringly, offering him weak little grins, as if they knew the effort was cheesy and silly.

Hiro still didn't react, though. He just stared, his expression unreadable.

'_Pretty lights on the tree,_

_I'm watching them shine._

_You should be here with me._

_Baby please come home…'_

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By five, they ran out of things to do. The living room was decked out, and they had even wrapped some garland around the banisters of the staircases. They'd hung up wreathes at intervals, and mistletoe too. Everything they had stored away was put up. And they ran out of things to do. So they went to go sit outside, which was the only thing that Hiro seemed optimistic in doing, for some reason. They bundled up of course, but it was still completely freezing outside. Honey Lemon's teeth started to chatter after a mere few minutes after stepping out. But Hiro seemed almost energetic at the thought of getting out. So they all resigned themselves to sitting out on the small patio.

They made a fire to help themselves warm up.

Hiro sat in one of the chairs surrounding it, staring at the flames hollowly. He was quiet.

Fred wasn't trying to make any conversation, either. He seemed sidetracked, looking down at his phone with his eyes narrowed in thoughtful slits. There was no telling that he had going through his mind. Gogo's chin was ducked down into her scarf, and Honey Lemon was reaching out to warm her hands against the open fire, finding that they felt more like icicles than fingers. Wasabi cleared his throat after a moment, turning and looking over at Hiro. "Today was fun," he commented, offering him a small grin. Hiro blinked and glanced over at him. But he didn't reply. So Wasabi went on. "You think…you'd like to do more stuff? Like this? We could make a gingerbread house tomorrow. Or…was today enough for you?"

Hiro frowned and shrugged. "I guess."

The reply didn't really _answer_ anything at all. Was he even listening?

Baymax was sitting close by Hiro, offering an extra beacon of warmth as he glowed that same soft orange. There was less than an inch's space in between Hiro and the robot. Wasabi sighed softly, and turned to look over at Gogo a little quizzically. In response, the girl cleared her throat, sitting a little bit more forward in her chair. "Hiro?" He roused a little bit at this, glancing over in her direction before back to the fire. Gogo tilted her head to the side. "Are you alright? You look like you might want to talk about something."

Hiro's lips stayed closed together tightly. He turned and drew his knees up close against his chest. He rested his chin there for a while, seeming to think about something for a minute. But eventually he just shook his head, shooting down whatever conversation Gogo hoped might occur. Disappointment flickered over her expression, and she resigned herself into silence. But Honey Lemon coined in her own efforts. Though, hers was in a more roundabout way. "So, Hiro…how come you like being outside so much?" she asked. "Do you like the snow?"

She thought at first that she wouldn't get an answer either. But surprisingly, it came readily enough. Though it was just a little flat in comparison to what she had wanted. "I like the cold," Hiro mumbled, looking down and picking at his jeans absently. Honey Lemon looked over at Gogo, her eyebrows pulling together in confusion. Gogo just shook her head. There wasn't much of a point in trying to push him, she figured. There was a fine line between being worried and just being irritating, and she knew that they did not want to cross it. Then they might not be able to recover.

Fred chose now to speak up. He cleared his throat and garnered attention his way before he turned and looked at Hiro. "Hiro…I got an email this morning," he said. Hiro twisted over to look at him, seeming confused. As if he wasn't sure why he should be interested in something as trivial as an online message. He would have looked away dismissively, but something in Fred's expression kept him from doing so. Instead, he just waited with a slow blink. Wasabi eyed Fred skeptically, but Fred ignored the intrusive gaze. He was zeroed in on the younger boy currently sitting across from him. "It was from Aunt Cass."

Honey Lemon grimaced.

Gogo shot Fred a look. "Fred." Her voice was reproachful. They hadn't talked about this. They hadn't decided when they were going to broach this topic. If they had, it certainly wouldn't be in such a blunt and bland way as this. They had to explain what was going on, and ease Hiro into the concept. This was just too surprising to fathom. It would be too much at once, wouldn't it?

Hiro wilted a little bit at the mention of Aunt Cass. It was looking like it would be a new habit for him, taking history into account at the same time. The group took to being silent, just looking over at Hiro and waiting for him to say or do anything. He wasn't sure what to do, though. Or what was expected of him. A frown clouded over his face weakly. His stomach flipped, and suddenly he wanted to go back inside and go to sleep. It was more preferable. He continued to stare at the fire. When he spoke, his voice was a small mumble. "She doesn't know I'm here. Does she?"

Fred seemed uncomfortable at the question.

Wasabi was the one who answered. "No. She thinks you're somewhere else."

Hiro gave a slow nod. Against himself, his mind wandered. He wondered what would happen if he got ahold of a phone. If he called Aunt Cass and told her what was going on. He would be able to go home, wouldn't he? He'd be able to go home, and then…from there…what would he be able to do? Maybe…would he…no. He wouldn't be able to do a single thing. He'd be taken from here and just put in some other hospital. He'd be fenced in no matter where he went. Doing anything like that would just make his situation worse. So he reluctantly dropped the idea from his mind and forced himself to move on. "And?"

Fred shifted a little bit. He cleared his throat, waiting for Hiro to look up and meet his gaze. But Hiro did not, and Fred couldn't wait forever. So he just went on. "She wrote you a letter actually. I told her that I would forward the letter to where you were staying, but…well, you know." There was an awkward pause, and he shook his head to clear it. He started over. "Anyway, I've had it in my inbox since this morning. I was wondering…whether or not you'd want to read it? I could hand you my phone if you want."

Hiro seemed engrossed in thought.

That, or he was trying his hardest not to think about a single thing.

Softly, he muttered under his breath: "…Is she angry?"

The question was quiet, but Hiro might as well have screamed it, for the surprise and shock that flickered over their faces. Out of everything, they weren't expecting him to ask anything like that. Throughout this entire thing, Hiro had been angry and bitter and depressed when it came to Aunt Cass and home and how things were going in life in general. Rarely was he…scared. Even if scared was the right word. Fred tilted his head to the side, his expression sharpening into a look of concern. "Well, I…I didn't read it, of course. It's _your_ letter. But…but no, she's not angry. At least…not when we were there with her. Not when we saw her last."

Honey Lemon looked hard over in Hiro's direction. "Is that what you're worried about?" she asked, her voice gentle. Hiro's silence seemed to be answer enough. The girl offered him a sad little smile. "Hiro, you shouldn't think that Aunt Cass would ever be mad at you. All she wants is for you to happy; she wants the same thing that we all do. She's just worried about you, and wants you safe and back home. She wouldn't waste a single second being_ anything_ but supportive or caring."

Hiro stared straight ahead. Honey Lemon thought that she could see his lower lip tremble just a little bit. He closed his eyes tightly. Nobody interrupted wherever his thoughts were going; they knew that it would be pointless. They all just sat and watched. What else were they supposed to do? After what seemed like ages, he inhaled sharply and opened his eyes again. He cleared his throat and tucked up tighter to himself, ducking his head down as if to try and hide away from everything. "I'm tired," he said bluntly, the two words causing disappointment to spring up into the air. Hiro ignored it. "I'm going to go to bed."

Fred bit down on his lower lip. He glanced down at his phone, his expression dubious. "…You sure?"

Hiro's lips pressed tightly together. He put his head down so that his temple was resting on the bridge of his knees. A sullen frown hung on his face, and after a long hesitation he mumbled: "I don't want to see her. Or talk to her." It was almost as if the words had slipped out against his will, the way he said it. Nobody replied; nobody really knew the correct words. Or even any _decent_ ones. Hiro's shoulders hunched, curling forward. His eyes flickered down to the ground. "I…I don't want to face anyone." He thought back to the slap that had stung his face, choking back a wince.

Wasabi was the first to try his hand at it. "You've faced us, Hiro," he pointed out. "Maybe not directly yet, and we won't push for anything. But…you really shouldn't worry. Aunt Cass wouldn't ever try to make you feel bad. She won't push you into anything either. Or get angry. You shouldn't think anything else, because I can promise you that whatever it is, you'll be wrong. You'll be worrying for absolutely nothing."

Hiro was still tense. He didn't lift up his head, only shaking it once. "I don't want to do _this_ either," he growled. "It's just that you're _making_ me."

Honey Lemon winced. "It's for your own good," she tried, finding that the effort was weak already. "You'll see that one day, I know you will."

"But not right now, apparently," Hiro completed.

Silence followed the words. It was as good enough an affirmation as anything.

Hiro nodded. His eyes narrowed slightly, and he stared off into the dark. He studied the rest of the yard, which gradually faded away into darkness and shadows. He felt his eyes sting, but he kept himself from rubbing at them; such a motion would just draw attention to it. He was already more than aware of the fact that he had the others' complete attention, quite against his will. He already hated the focus; he didn't need to make their concern spike even more.

But he did have a point. Swallowing hard and refusing to untuck out of his curled position, he continued on in a soft murmur. "You seem to be basing a lot off of the hope that one day things will be different." He couldn't see their reactions, but he almost hoped that they would be at least the tiniest bit abashed. Throughout this entire thing, Hiro hadn't seen them even the slightest bit remorseful. "You can say how sure you are of it over and over again, as many times as you want. But you're just saying it because you'd _rather_ it be that way."

Gogo deflated at this. She looked as if she wanted to say something in reply, but if she did, she bit it back. She just sat back a little bit in her chair, looking from one person to the other. But they looked just as much at a loss on what do. Recently, all they'd been focusing on was setting up for the holidays— which wasn't even a holiday really, considering the year would be over in about a day or two.

But that wasn't the point. The point was that it was all they'd been doing. The scene with the knife, Hiro nearly slicing out his own throat, was enough to inject fear into their hearts. Now they were worrying. Now they knew that there was a line. They'd known it before, of course— they'd seen Hiro snap and yell at Aunt Cass while they were in the hospital. But they hadn't realized how lethal that particular line could grow to be. And now, after they'd toed it so dangerously, they were too stricken with shock to even move.

Fred had said that this was a good thing. He'd expressed the idea that this could be a sort of turning point for Hiro. Finally, after so long, they were reaching the point in the road that would branch off into something better. And it was about time. But really, what if it was the exact opposite? Yes, Hiro was actually outside of his room now. He'd had a few conversations, however restrained and dull they were. But if they were too scared to push…where could they go? Weren't they stuck?

The thought seemed to be reflective with the rest of them. It certainly accounted for the silence that was pushing down on them. Nobody was brave enough to slap sense into Hiro, despite how much they were screaming at themselves to. Gogo wasn't even sure what to say— she'd already said her part, really. And some part of her still wanted to keep her secret from her friends, who were still unaware of her situation. Honey Lemon was still on thin ice with her; she didn't want to make things harder.

But maybe it was better this way. For the conversation to stop here. The fuse was arranged, and there was an open flame flickering up against it. Talking Hiro down might jerk the fire forward and cause an explosion to rip everything apart. Now, not saying anything, they were taken to silence, which was better in some cases. At least Hiro wasn't getting worked up this way. They had to be careful; they had to take it in slow steps. Out of fear, yes. Their hesitation was derived from fear without question. But its origin wasn't important.

What was important is what they did with it.

Hiro was staring off to the side, still. After a while he turned back to the fireplace, the orange shadows flickering across his face. The only noise was the crackling and popping of the fire, and in the distance, it was the sound of cars. Any other time, and it would have been peaceful. Now it was just choking and oppressing. Not for the first time, Fred stared mournfully over at Hiro, looking at the boy's deadened expression. He looked so…numb. Like he didn't care about a single thing. In the back of his mind, the teenager recalled the image of the boy pressing the blade of the knife up against his throat. It was a hard image to forget.

The only thing he wanted in the world was to have Hiro smile again. To feel happiness.

Why couldn't he _give _that to him!?

Wasabi spoke up again. The others stiffened in varying degrees as soon as he began, instantly wondering what he was thinking. But if Wasabi noticed the detail, he didn't pause to let it interfere with anything he was about to do. He just leaned forward, looking at Hiro with the smallest hint of a smile. "Hey, Hiro." Hiro blinked a little bit, glancing over at Wasabi with that same unaffected look. But still, he disregarded it. He just tilted his head to the side. "Do you think you can answer a question?"

Hiro turned back to the fire. He locked his jaw backwards and muttered: "…No."

Wasabi sighed through his nose. Weakly, he pushed on. "Oh, come on, Hiro," he said, albeit gently. "You have to at least _try_. You _always_ have to try. …Right?" Still, Hiro didn't reply. He was quiet, and just continued to look broodily at the logs in front of him. The fire wasn't as big as it was half an hour ago; they would have to put more on it if they wanted it to burn for much longer. It would go out soon. Honey Lemon reached over to try and console her friend with a small touch. But Wasabi wasn't in the mood to settle. He kept pushing. "It's not an actual question," he cleared up. "It's a riddle."

The others seemed irritated by the tangent, but Hiro twisted his head to look at Wasabi. The other instantly recognized the fact that, behind the overlaying sense of frustration and sorrow, there was the smallest hint of interest. Just a small one. Wasabi's smile grew, and after a small pause, Hiro spoke. His voice was quiet and reserved. Nevertheless, it was there. "What is it?" he asked, his voice a little short.

Wasabi grinned and raised his eyebrows. "Alright, you ready?"

Hiro quit holding his legs together. He shifted and changed his position himself with his legs crossed. He reached up and pulled Tadashi's hat down a little tighter. He cleared his throat and looked up at Wasabi, still looking irritable. But still, Wasabi could see that flash of curiosity. Or maybe he was just hanging onto what had been there before. Even so, Hiro wasn't spitting at him to shut up, or getting up and walking away. He was actually waiting for what was to come.

So Wasabi grinned. "If a bee is in my hand, then what is in my eye?" he asked.

Silence followed the riddle.

Hiro was blank for a long moment. But as Wasabi stared at him, he saw the boy's forehead crease and confusion settle over in his gaze. He could see the gears beginning to kick slowly into gear. Despite the happiness that he was experiencing over the fact that Hiro was actually starting to consider a solution to the problem, he had to feel a small sense of sorrow at the same time. If he had asked Hiro this question when he had first met him – when Hiro had been smart and sharp and friendly – he probably could have fired the answer right back at him. Now it was clear that he had no idea.

A few minutes passed just in thought. Gogo flashed Wasabi a questioning look, and Honey Lemon was watching Hiro intently. Fred, on the other hand, was mouthing to himself, obviously trying to come up with his own answer. Baymax was gauging Hiro closely, looking intently focused. Hiro was still staring at the fire, and for a second, Wasabi thought he got distracted. However, he was soon proven wrong. Not breaking his line of thought, Hiro asked: "Bee as in the insect, or the letter?" There was another silence before he doubled back. "And eye as in the body part, or the letter?"

Wasabi just grinned even more. "Can't tell you," he said at once. "You've just got to answer it."

Hiro's eyes flashed. He fell into another pit of thought. Wasabi was getting more and more encouraged the longer he puzzled over it. By riddle standards, it wasn't very hard. When Wasabi had been asked it, he'd only sat in about a minute of silence before he got to the right answer. Hiro was having a much harder time. He took back to staring straight ahead.

There was another long pause.

Such a thing seemed commonplace now.

But eventually it was brought to a close. Hiro turned and started to get up, pushing himself into a standing position. He seemed a little winded from the effort, but Baymax stood as well and offered his hold to steady the child. Hiro glanced over at him but didn't offer any sort of thanks beyond that. He just shook his head and waited until he was okay enough to stand by himself. When he was, he stuffed his hands into his hoodie. "I'm going to bed," he rasped.

Wasabi frowned. "You're not going to try and answer?"

Hiro blinked. He stared at the fire. Finally, he seemed to resolve whatever he had been thinking. He turned and bent over sharply at the waist. So sharply, that Honey Lemon rocketed up to her feet, her eyes wide as she braced herself to reach out and catch him in case he collapsed. But he wasn't falling unconscious; he was quite far from it, actually. He was leaning over because he was reaching out with both arms, the bandages there flashing into view briefly before he gathered up an armful of snow.

He turned, shuffling over and dumping the armful on top of the fire.

Fred's forehead creased over. "Hiro, what are you…?"

Gogo closed her eyes, looking away with a small cringe. Honey Lemon frowned.

Hiro kept up the act. "Hiro, please take care," Baymax warned gently. "Handling snow without proper attire could cause your core body temperature to fall. This could lead to—" But he wasn't listening. Hiro just brushed by him, the robot falling silent as he realized that it didn't have a point to it. Hiro just continued to shift back and forth, gathering up the snow only to turn and chuck it down on the now-fading embers, his jaw locked backwards and his eyes slightly narrowed, as if he was angry or upset about something.

The fire sizzled, unable to keep burning underneath the pressure of the ice. It wasn't an effective way to put it out, and so the routine went on in a drag. The others tried to stop him a few times, concerned about him and just wanting to get him to stop without causing a scene. But they ended up just watching. Watching and realizing why Hiro was doing this. Why had they been so callous? Of course….it wasn't the first thing they had considered. But it should have been. With everything they were trying to do, they really should have been more tactful. Rather than just sitting together around an…open fire.

Hiro spent the next few minutes throwing snow on the fire, his expression pinched and strained the longer this went on. His cheeks were flushed, and the minimal effort was leaving him wheezing a little unevenly. But eventually he did it, and the fire was put out entirely. Once the last sizzle faded into nothing, Hiro finally stopped, breathing heavily and holding a stitch in his side. The way he looked, he seemed to be waiting for something to happen. Something to occur from his efforts.

But all he got was blackened soot and softly-glowing embers.

Wasabi's expression was heavy. He looked over at Hiro, who seemed to be holding back a wave of emotions. His eyes seemed much too bright in the darkness, now. And at his sides, balled into fists, his hands shook and trembled. "Hiro…we're sorry…" he tried wearily.

But Hiro wasn't in the mood to listen anymore. He just turned and started back to the house. Baymax followed shortly after, hurrying to keep up with the boy. Fred sighed and shoved his phone back into his pocket. Wasabi shook his head and turned away. Honey Lemon and Gogo exchanged sorrowful looks, neither of the two saying anything.

Silence again. It was becoming really annoying, actually.

It was broken after a second by a curse that rose up generally. It wasn't really important where it came from— it just expressed the unchallenged feeling of disappointment and regret.

"Crap."

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Hiro was pacing. He'd been doing that for an hour now. Despite the exhaustion that was dragging down his limbs, and the fact that his head was pounding and probably would have been helped with a rest, he refused to stop. Baymax had given up trying to coax the boy down. He was standing near the corner of the room, where he was usually shoved to. Hiro wasn't even paying attention to him. He was muttering underneath his breath, incoherent from where the robot was standing.

"Hiro," Baymax said after a moment. "You really should rest. It is one in the morning."

Hiro growled. He shook his head, rubbing painfully at his arms.

Baymax noticed the action. "Please do not tear your stitches, Hiro."

He grimaced. "Stop," he grumbled, obviously irate. "You're_ always_ doing that. It's annoying."

"I apologize," he returned, not waiting a second before. "I am only trying to keep you from harming yourself further."

Hiro fell silent again, walking from his bed to the wall then back again, and then back another time. He didn't stop. He seemed wrapped up in thought, too tangled to wriggle free. His eyes were narrowed, and his mouth worked furiously. Shuffling a few paces closer, Baymax tried to listen. And he managed to register a few of them. "I don't need…it's just so stupid…and she would never…I just don't want to…" He was distressed, obviously. His heartrate was elevated above normal levels.

"Would you like to talk about things?" Baymax asked hesitantly. Hiro stopped short, his shoulders tensing. He didn't say anything or turn to look at him. But the robot went on nonetheless. "Please do not let yourself worry," he pleaded. "If you are worried about Aunt Cass, Hiro, you should not be. You should lay down and let yourself relax. Otherwise you will only make yourself more upset." He walked even closer. When Hiro still didn't react, Baymax tilted his head to the side. "We should talk about it, Hiro."

Hiro squeezed his eyes shut. A pained noise clenched itself in the back of his throat. When he replied, his voice was so small that it was hard to hear in the first place. "I don't want to." Baymax blinked slowly, watching as the child reached up and rubbed harshly at his eyes. It felt as if someone had taken a hot iron and branded the inside of his throat. It didn't help his voice, which only became more and more strangled the further he went on. "I don't want to talk about any of it," he whimpered, taking now to staring at the floor.

"It would help," Baymax reassured, ever quick to do so. It was his function, after all.

Hiro shook his head. "You don't know that."

They took to just staring, then. Baymax was staring at Hiro, and Hiro was staring at the ground. The robot was instantly aware the second that a tear streaked down the side of the boy's face. His hands were shaking again where they hung at his sides. All of the symptoms were marking up with anxiety, to which the boy certainly had a lot of. Much more than any regular fourteen-year-old should have. Baymax searched for something to say that would help alleviate this stress. He knew of its importance— if his words were not perfect, they would do more harm than good on the mind of a depressive. Eventually he landed on something that seemed to carry with it the best success rate.

"I am sorry about the fire, Hiro."

Hiro went rigid, his eyes widening out. He didn't say anything, yet Baymax registered the fact that he took in a sharp breath.

He decided to continue. "Tadashi was a very good person, Hiro. He cared about you. And you cared about him. It is reasonable for you to be so distraught after his unexpected death. He should have lived for a very long time. He should not have been taken from you so soon." Hiro was still silent, staring emptily forward, looking at if he wasn't able to see a single thing in front of his nose. Baymax was still taking small steps closer, not trying to agitate him. "I understand your frustration, and your motives. You were only trying to cope with your loss through methods you deemed the most effective against your sorrow."

Hiro wasn't even trying to brush aside the tears anymore. But he was breathing irregularly.

"You were just doing what you thought would help you the most. You are not to be blamed for that." Hiro blinked rapidly and choked back a swallow with the reassurance. He seemed floored and unable to reply. But it wasn't a surprise, considering he'd hardly said ever since he'd put the knife to his throat. "But you cannot continue like this. You are being provided with support from friends that care about you. You have been struggling for quite some time. But now you do not have to go on. You can rest. And you can relax."

"It's _not _that simple!" Hiro snarled. He felt like he was going to get sick. He sniffed, reaching up and rubbing at his face. "Everyone makes it seem like it's some simple thing, and it's _not_!" He turned now to round on Baymax, his teary eyes narrowed into slits. He looked like he wanted to say more, but he seemed too worked-up. That, or he was just groping for something he could say that would be halfway decent. Somehow, he didn't think such a thing was possible.

Baymax just blinked again. "I did not mean to make it sound simple, Hiro," he replied. "Because it is not. It is far from simple. You are confused and upset and you are missing your family. It is very hard for you to handle this." Hiro pressed his lips together in the attempt to try and stop them from trembling. "I only wish to help you out of this. It is what we all want to do. It is what we are all trying to do. Because we hope that you can recover from your loss."

Hiro choked again. His voice was thick and congested when he forced his words out. Even to himself, he sounded tinny and pathetic. Worthless. "Tadashi's dead," he croaked. He was going to be sick— he was throwing up these words, not speaking them.

Baymax leaned over, meeting Hiro's despairing gaze with his own soothing one. "I am sorry, Hiro," he said, the stress on each syllable trying to persuade him to see that he meant everything he said. "Your loss cannot be understood. But it can be comforted, and your struggle can be alleviated. If you will allow us. Although we cannot grasp what you are going through, it does not lessen the care for you."

Hiro sniffed, his eyes puffy now as he stared morosely at the robot across from him.

Baymax studied him carefully. He went on after this sunk in. "Tadashi would be heartbroken to see you this way."

This was enough. Hiro immediately cracked, his expression crumbling as he wheezed in a sharp gasp. Baymax had to reach over to steady him, making sure he did not collapse. After the gasp, Hiro shook his head, ducking down to try and hide the fact that his tears were streaming now. A slightly ridiculous effort, considering it was more than obvious. His voice came out broken and chipped. "It was my fault," he sobbed. "It was my fault he ran into the building. It was my— if I just hadn't been there trying to…if I hadn't made my Microbots…"

"It was nobody's fault," Baymax replied.

Hiro flinched, as if Baymax had slapped him across the face. At first, he said nothing. Yet the robot was aware that by the look on his face, and by his unimproved condition, that he did not find solace in the reassurances that were given to him. And when Hiro spoke next, the robot's assumption was proved founded. "I wanted to be with him," he confessed sorrowfully. Baymax blinked. "I wanted to go to college with him. I wanted….I wanted him to be proud of me." He bit down on his lower lip. His voice broke in half when he pushed again. "I just…I just wanted him to be proud of me," he cried.

Baymax continued to hold onto him. "He would be proud of you," he said immediately. "He would be very proud of you. Because he loved you."

Hiro was a cross between being extremely sorrowful and extremely frustrated. His voice was clenched tight at this point. "I want him here! I just want him here! I don't want to be told that he loved me! I want _him _to tell me that he _loves _me!" He was getting close to screaming now. His throat, already sore and dry, closed in on his words on the way out. He sniffed and held back a screech that was building at the back of his throat. Instead he just kept it down as much as he could. "Tadashi was everything!" he heaved. "Now…now what do I have?" This ended in a whisper. He sounded tired and worn.

But Baymax was anything but. His reply was strong and assured. Clear and to the point.

"Us."

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"Wasabi?"

Nothing.

"Wasabi."

What _was_ it about four in the morning that made people sleep?

"Wasabi!"

He'd prefer not to wake up the entire continent.

"_Wasabi!_"

That last one seemed to do it. Wasabi jerked, his body going into a spasm of shock as his eyes flew open wide. He gave a soft scream, to which the initial speaker cringed irritably away from. It took a few seconds for Wasabi to collect himself after being jarred awake. He was never good with…high-anxiety-inducing situations. And being woken up with a shout at four in the morning by some random person was probably able to fall under that category. It could be a chainsaw murderer, for all he knew. A chainsaw murderer that decided to wake him up right before he revved up his weapon and sliced his head clean off like a hot knife to butter.

But what he got instead was a little bit more surprising.

Wasabi narrowed his eyes through the dark, and then, to reassure himself that he wasn't dreaming, he turned and switched on the bedside table lamp. "Hiro?" he asked, his voice slurred a little awkwardly. Surely it was a trick of the light, or something? But apparently not. Sure enough, at his bedside, Hiro was standing, his hands shoved into the front of his hoodie. The boy's expression was deadpanned, as if he didn't see any issue with sneaking into someone's room and waking them up in the wee hours of morning as anything odd.

Behind him stood Baymax, less than an inch away. The robot lifted his hand in a small wave. "Good morning, Wasabi," he greeted softly.

Wasabi blinked, looking from the boy to the robot. His mouth hung halfway open. But quickly he tried to jar himself out of it. Something had to be wrong, right? Otherwise why would Hiro could in here? And then again…_why would Hiro come in here_? If he had an issue, Wasabi had been under the impression that this was the last place he would go. Where were the others? What was going on? Again, he had all of these worried thoughts cramming into his mind, piling on top of one another. He didn't know exactly what to do, so he eventually just stuttered out a lame: "…What?"

Hiro blinked, looking just as lost on what to say ay first. It was almost like he'd forgotten himself why he came in. But he landed on it after a moment, or just resigned himself to not caring anymore. Regardless of why, Wasabi was taken aback to see that he brightened ever so slightly. There was a small ghost of a smile playing at his lips, and there was a certain degree of lightness to his voice. He sounded…pleased with himself. The exact opposite of what he'd been since right this moment.

"I did it," he said, the accomplishment unfortunately very vague.

Wasabi was instantly guilty he didn't know what he was talking about. Weakly, he smiled. "'Did it?'" he repeated. "Did what, Little Man?" The nickname slipped out before he could plug it back, and he expected Hiro to give the smallest sign of anger in response. Or at least short-tempered irritation.

But the surprises kept coming; Hiro did nothing of the sort. He wasn't dampened at all.

Wasabi was starting to assume that he was dreaming.

"I did it," Hiro repeated, the ghostly smile slowly wriggling its way actually onto his face. Wasabi was floored to the say the very least. He was propped up on his elbow, bloodshot eyes round as he stared blankly at the boy beside him. And Baymax, who looked just as eager to be there as Hiro did, from the way he was looking from one person to the other. "I figured it out," Hiro went on, a touch of satisfaction in his voice. "I figure out your riddle."

Riddle? What…?

Oh!

A grin spread across Wasabi's face. "You did?" he asked, beaming at once as he started to sit up. "No way! That's awesome, man! What do you think it is?" He could hardly believe this was actually transpiring right in his room at 4:03 in the morning. He felt like pinching himself, if he wouldn't get weird looks for doing so. But for right now he just based reality on the fact that he was so tired. "Let me hear it," he encouraged.

Hiro smiled. It was small, but Wasabi was instantly aware of it. "It's beauty," the younger said matter-of-factly. He shifted his weight from side to side. "Because _beauty_ is in the _eye _of the _be_holder." The explanation was spot-on, and it was clear that Hiro knew that. He looked almost proud of himself for coming to the conclusion. And it was more than Wasabi was even hoping for when he had first pulled that riddle up at the fire. He had just been trying to change topics. He hadn't thought it would actually get a smile out of Hiro. Or a sense of satisfaction.

Wasabi nodded eagerly. "Yeah! You got it right!" he said happily, watching as Hiro's smile grew a tad. "That's great! I had a hard time with that one. Took me about a day." It was a complete lie, but who was counting? All he cared about was the fact that Hiro seemed energized for once, if only a little bit. And by a riddle of all things! Though he wasn't all that surprised, in hindsight. Hiro had been a smart kid— he still was, of course. There wasn't a better option when it came to trying to spark some interest in things. "Fred still doesn't have the right answer either, so…" he tried to tease.

Hiro's smile stayed on his face. The longer it remained, the more impressed and stupefied Wasabi grew.

But now that the moment passed, awkwardness settled in between them. Baymax registered the fact as Hiro turned to look away. "Hiro realized the answer to your problem at 3:21," the robot reported calmly. "He wished to come and tell you right away. But despite the fact, it took him 37 minutes to leave his room." Hiro's smile faded at this, to be replaced back a look of slight annoyance. The change was instant, and Wasabi immediately felt a sense of disappointment that the grin had left already.

"That's alright," Wasabi tried to joke, wanting the expression to come back. "It wasn't like I was sleeping or anything."

"We'll go," Hiro said, his voice dropping back into that dull rut once more. He started to turn, Baymax doing the same on instinct as he tried to waddle after. Just as quick as Hiro had come into the room to wake Wasabi up, he was leaving just the same. To do what? If he had been up this long, he must have just been sitting in his room, staring at the wall…right? Wasabi hadn't been woken up by any noise whatsoever.

That couldn't be healthy…to be all alone. Sure, he had Baymax, but…

He'd smiled. He'd actually _smiled._

"Wait a second," Wasabi called out.

Hiro stopped. He straightened and looked over his shoulder. His eyebrows were knitted together in a sense of awkward unease. Baymax stopped as well. He seemed to be the boy's shadow, in the sense that he mimicked each and every motion. But that was his job. And Wasabi's job? It was to try and help Hiro in any way that he possibly could. Even in the smallest fraction amount.

So.

He offered Hiro an encouraging smirk. "Do you think you could answer another one?"

Hiro blinked in surprise. He glanced at Baymax, who did nothing in reply.

At first it looked like he was about to refuse.

But to utter shock and surprise, Hiro turned and walked back. Offered another small smile.

"Maybe."

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A/N: I never even got the riddle when I was asked it. I'm dumb, I had to be told the answer. :P

It is near midnight on a school night. I shall regret this in the morning but for now, here is a new chapter! Sorry again for the gap, and I tried to make this long to make up for it. But I just really do have to stick to that 'ten-review' policy with the other three stories I have going on. I apologize for it, and if I had my way, I would concentrate a whole lot more on this story because I still have tons and tons planned for it; not to mention that the reviews I _do _get for this story are so well thought out and amazing! Seriously, I really am thinking _a lot_ about this story in my free time, and I am excited to write more of it. I just have a lot on my plate, so…hopefully the next update can come quicker.

Excuse any typos! Like I said, it's midnight here. I'm super tired and struggling to get this out to you all. I hope its length and content make up for any misspelled or mistyped words.

I hope you're excited! There will be a shift in the story here pretty soon, which is going to be really fun to write and hopefully really fun to read! So thank you for sticking with me so far and I hope to hear from you!


	21. Chapter 21

"Five."

"Five? That's easy. Five is four."

"…Nine."

"Nine is four too."

"Twenty-seven."

"Twenty-seven is eleven. Eleven is six. Six is three, three is five, and five is four.."

"One hundred."

"One hundred is ten, ten is three, three is five and five is four."

"One."

"One is three. Three is five and five is four."

The exchange had been going on continuously, exactly like this. Fred and Honey Lemon were on the other side of the table, their eyes wide in confusion as they looked from Hiro to Wasabi, as each went back and forth. Hiro's face was pinched over in frustration— well, it probably would have been, if they could see it. About five minutes ago he had hunched over, his forehead pressing against the edge of the table as he stared down towards the floor. The numbers that he put forward were curt and came out in harsh grumbles. It was clear that he was more than a bit peeved, but he didn't quit or give up. He just kept spurting out the numbers, his syllables wracked with irritation and thought.

Wasabi was a little dubious as to whether or not he was actually helping, by this point. Hiro was just getting more and more frustrated with himself as time went on, and he could not reach his own conclusion. Wasabi had meant this next riddle as a means of distraction from thoughts like that, not a source of it. But every time he tried to divert attention or change topics, Hiro would be adamant in the fact that he wished to keep going until he solved this new riddle. He wasn't about to stop, however much he probably should have, and despite the fact that even after hours, he was still just as lost on what was going on as he had been when Wasabi first offered the puzzle.

A little awkwardly, Wasabi doubled back, hoping that another explanation of it might spark something in him to realize. Because, really, this riddle just wasn't that hard. Just like the other one, had Hiro been given it maybe a few months ago, he probably could have figured it out sooner. Maybe not as soon as he would have figured out the last one Wasabi had proposed, but it certainly wouldn't have taken him this long. It was nearly eight now, and they had been going back and forth since four. Fred and Honey Lemon had been woken up by their talking around 6:30.

"It's just like I said," Wasabi stressed, a small grumble coming up from Hiro with the words. Wasabi couldn't blame him, though— this was going to be about the third time he'd repeated himself. But he didn't have any other alternative. He'd tried about eight times to give Hiro hints, or to just flat out tell him the solution to it. But Hiro hadn't let that happen. So: reiteration it was. "You can give me any number at all— absolutely any number that comes to mind. And I can reduce it down to four. You just have to tell me how I'm doing it." He paused for a long moment before trying to help him a teensy bit more. "How do you think I can do it so quick? And you can always ask for a hint or—"

"Seventy-two," Hiro interrupted in a low mutter. He didn't even let Wasabi finish offering additional help.

He sighed, but he smiled nevertheless. At least Hiro was determined. "Seventy-two is ten. Ten is three. Three is five, and five is four. Bam." Fred was looking in between them, his gaze still half-asleep as he seemed to be wracking his own brain. Honey Lemon was resting her head on the palm of her hand, and she was stirring some coffee that Heathcliff had been kind enough to offer her.

She seemed more interested in looking at Hiro, her expression seeming much more thoughtful and penetrating in comparison to Fred's. She seemed to be more than attentive when it came to surveying the boy. Her attention did not come from the confusion of the riddle and what its solution could be. Rather, it came just out of the knowledge of what Hiro had been just a short while ago— crying and curled up close to her and begging for more drugs.

He seemed better, now, if only slightly. He wasn't like he used to be, back when they had been together while he was working on his Microbots. Hiro had been bubbly and eager back then— he'd laughed and yelled and grinned probably enough for the entire group combined. He was a husk of that person, still. He was quiet and reserved, and whenever he spoke, his voice came out in a raspy murmur. His expression was still weighted down in sorrow, and his eyes still lacked that spark that they used to have nearly all the time. He was clearly suffering just as much. He was just staying quieter about it.

But…that was still better…

Right…?

Hiro was struggling not to fume. "Okay, then you just divide by two and then—"

"I told you that wasn't it," Wasabi interrupted. He didn't even let Hiro finish, and with that fact, he tried to ignore the way Hiro's shoulders slumped down even further than they already were. "I'm not doing any math to get it there. You've just got to guess how I'm doing it."

"Well then you're just saying random numbers," Hiro growled.

Wasabi's smile was a little pinched. But he still shook his head. ""Nope, that's not it either."

"Well then it's stupid," he pushed, his voice tart.

Fred was still mumbling to himself. Honey Lemon turned to look awkwardly in Wasabi's direction. It was clear by the look on her face that she had sensed Hiro's mounting anger a long time ago. She seemed more and more uninclined to this whole situation the longer it went on. Wasabi shouldn't have picked something so hard. There were a million other riddles he could have asked that would have been much easier, and in turn a better distraction. Like…what was so fragile that saying its name would break it? The answer was silence, and Hiro would be able to land on it at once. Or…at least faster than he would with this.

She looked imploringly at her friend, who seemed to be thinking the same thing, thankfully enough. He turned and flashed a smile at Hiro, who did not see, considering his head was still on the table. The kid was a turtle— refusing to come out of his shell unless he figured out a solution to the puzzle or at least started getting on the right track. "Here, Hiro let's just say that you got the right answer, okay?" He thought that Hiro grumbled something underneath his breath; he couldn't hear it clearly enough, but he could only figure that it was something offensive. "It's not really that clever of a riddle anyway. I can give you another one that'll be even better than this one."

There was a long stretch of silence before Hiro replied. And when he did, it wasn't even a real reply. His voice came out in an angry mutter, and it was clear that he was talking more to himself than he was to anybody else. "Why am I so stupid?" he demanded, the words cutting as they came out sharp and barbed. Baymax had been standing behind Hiro ever since they'd come down to the kitchen. The robot perked visibly with the new train of thought. And though he didn't move, there seemed to be a new kind of purpose to his standing there.

Wasabi's face fell a little bit— this wasn't what he had been meaning to accomplish with the riddles. He'd meant to make Hiro interested and satisfied with himself. He probably should have cut things off a long time ago. After being stuck for so long on this one question, all the satisfaction he'd gathered from the last one was completely gone. Now all he felt was shortness with himself. Even Fred was jarred from his thoughts with the words. So quickly, Wasabi started to object in a rush. "You're not stupid, Hiro!" he pressed. "You're so smart! You figured out the other riddle really fast! And this one is even harder."

Hiro's reply was just as muffled and irritable, though. "It took me forever to figure out that one."

"No, no!" Wasabi rushed. "Hiro, don't get upset! You just—"

His words were cut off abruptly by a shrill ring. He quieted, his face falling. He turned to see hat Fred had jerked to sit up straighter. Honey Lemon's eyes were a little wider as she looked as well. Even Hiro sat up, his forehead a little red from pressing against the edge of the table. His stare was more confused as he looked from one person to the other. Baymax blinked, registering the fact that there was now a sense of thick tension in the air, and that the heart rates of the three friends had rose dramatically.

At first, nobody moved— Fred didn't even move, and he was the one whose phone was ringing. He just looked down at his pocket, as if he had never come into contact with a mobile device in his life. Hiro, diverted from his anger just because of the awkward situation, demanded: "What are you doing?" Fred jumped, even though Hiro's voice hadn't been close to a yell in the slightest. This only caused the crease in Hiro's voice to grow even deeper. When Fred didn't offer a reply, he pressed impatiently: "Are you going to answer that?"

He did. Fred cleared his throat and wriggled the small thing out of his pocket. Sure enough, his dread – the dread that was shared by all three of them, really – over who was calling was proven right with a small glance at the phone screen. He lifted it up to his ear nevertheless, an awkward smile stretching over his face already, as if the person on the other end would be able to see him. "Hey!" he chirped, hoping that his eagerness would sound better than it felt to push out. "What's up?"

_What's up? _he asked himself. _That's what you're planning on going with?_

Cass' voice came through the other end. Fred held back a sigh and started to drum his fingers against the furniture to try and keep himself collected. "Fred! I hate to call again, I feel like I'm pestering you so much." He opened his mouth, preparing himself to reassure her that of course she wasn't being a bother. But she was sweeping on before he could. There wasn't enough room for him to interject. "I was going to ask if you forwarded my letter. T-To them. And…I was going to ask if maybe you'd heard something back yet? I know it hasn't been more than a day or so, but…I was just concerned."

Fred listened, feeling numb and weighted down. He stared over to Hiro, who was sitting directly across the table from him. The boy looked confused, and he just stared right back, a bit of reproach in the back of his eyes, as if he was prepared to snap at the other to stop gawking. Fred just frowned, looking at the boy's eyes, which looked bruised thanks to the bags hanging underneath them. He looked at how small he looked and how thin. How tousled and messy his hair was, and at the bandages that were poking out from the ends of his sleeves.

Cass was going on, obviously oblivious to what seemed to have Fred unable to reply yet. "Have you heard from them about any of it?" she asked, pressing for an answer at this point. She sounded stressed and strung-out. When didn't she, nowadays? When didn't any of them, if he was being honest with himself? "Surely you've gotten some news?" she asked, a certain amount of hollow hope in the inquiry. "You've…seen or talked to someone that's in charge of helping him? It's been more than a week now…I'm worried that something could have happened to him."

She was talking quickly. Fred couldn't really bring himself to blame her. She was all alone, where she was. Even though she had called shortly before, these questions had most likely been mounting and mounting on top of her. She didn't even have anyone that could help to alleviate her burden. At least they had each other to lean on over here; it wasn't much help, so Fred couldn't even bring himself to wonder what it was like on her end. She was frantic, and Fred was probably the only one at the moment that could quell whatever she was feeling. Once he answered the phone, her dam had probably burst.

He realized Cass was speaking again. He was roused soon enough to hear her mutter thoughtfully almost to herself: "Maybe I could call them…"

_Crap! _"N-No!" Fred said in a rush, immediately regretting the brash way he had replied. Hiro's face was falling now, and Fred wondered whether or not realization was starting to settle over him. Fred grimaced and backtracked to try and correct the blunder. "Sorry, I was talking to Wasabi. He was about to put a drink down without a coaster. He's a savage." Wasabi shot him a look, and he ignored it. "You don't have to do that, no," he said, keeping his voice much calmer and much lighter this time. "I got some stuff, I meant to forward it back to you as soon as I got it, but it was kind of late. What with the time difference and everything. I can give it to you in a while though."

Surprise was painfully evident on the other end of the line. "Really?" she gasped. He could picture a smile spreading quickly over her face, and he tried to ignore the fact that his stomach twisted at it. "That's great! I figured that by now you'd have had to get _something_!" His smile turned even more awkward, and by now Hiro had slouched back down in his chair. His face was sullen, and his eyes flickered to look away from Fred and over to the side instead. Baymax was looking at him closely, and Fred trusted the robot enough to make sure that nothing happened. He wasn't sure what he should be worried about, but after the knife incident, it was probably better to worry than to trust that things would be fine enough.

"What is he doing down there?" Aunt Cass asked, her voice immediately becoming softer at the prospect of finding out how her nephew was faring. Inwardly, Fred wondered whether she really would be satisfied with what they had to give her in terms of what was really going on. Maybe it was better that they were doing this, then. Lying was bad, that was an unquestionable truth. It was drilled in the heads of every kid from the moment they could talk. But was lying really the worst thing in a situation like this? Surely it was more merciful than it was anything else!

He tried to come up with things on the spot, and make them as believable as he possibly could. Before this all started, he hadn't had the need to lie as much, and so he wasn't all that skilled at the idea. But he was finding that with every passing second since then, he'd become better and better. He might as well be an expert by this point. "He's…well, he's getting accustomed to everything," he said, Hiro still refusing to turn and meet his gaze, despite the fact that it was clear that all their attention was now on him. "Apparently he…he didn't take all that well to it. At first, I mean."

Aunt Cass' reply conveyed a feeling of intense worry. "But is he better now? Is he having fun? Is he liking it? Is he getting _help_?" He could tell that the last two questions were more important to her, by the weight that her voice held. And it made sense. Again, Fred experienced a rush of regret that he could not instantly fix the situation at hand. It had seemed so simple when he and the rest had initially planned out what they were going to do. But now it was like every move they made was the wrong one, and they were getting absolutely nowhere. Fred would chop off his leg if could just get everything back the way it was before Tadashi had run into that burning building.

Fred was back to thinking on his toes, though. He couldn't concentrate on such things; it would only make everything harder to handle. "He started off on the wrong foot, because he didn't want to be there, you know?" he starred. "But…they think he's starting to come around." His grin grew a touch more genuine with this. It wasn't a total lie, at least. It was part of the way true. "He's not like his old self. But…he's talking more. I mean— that's what they said, at least," he added hastily. "He's talking with the others that are there. But pretty much he's just been getting used to it down there." _And he took a bunch of pills again and nearly slit his throat. _He didn't add this part; he figured it wouldn't really help their situation that much. In a number of ways.

There was a relieved sigh on the other end. Fred's smile grew just a bit more. He could be happy with what was happening if he just kept himself from lingering on the fact that he was lying through his teeth to her. "That's…that's amazing," Aunt Cass sighed, her voice oozing over with affection and reassurance. "Oh my goodness…just to think that he'll be happy again. And home soon. Well— not soon. But…I can wait. I'm just so thankful. Thank you very much, Fred, for what you've done for me. And him, too. We'll never be able to repay you."

His smile wavered. But his voice remained steady. "I think having him back will be payment enough."

He heard Aunt Cass laugh softly. Yet when she spoke next, worry was starting to leak back in the tone of her voice. She was prone to concern, Fred was quick to understand. She was nearly always like that. He wondered if anyone would think the same about him if he approached them trying to make conversation. Would the stress he was trying so hard to stifle and push down bubble up through the surface just like Cass' was? "So…did they say whether or not he read my letter?" she asked, Fred's mind flying back to the unopened message that was still in his inbox. "When will he be able to respond to me?"

"Oh," Fred said, not really smart enough to come up with something that was any better. And there was a wide array of options that would have been better than stupid-sounding mumble. He reached up and ran his hands through his hair, dimly wondering where he had left his beanie. He lost track of it a while ago, and oddly enough, it wasn't really on the top of his list of priorities. "Well, no. I don't think he read it yet. They've got to give him a teensy bit more time before he did. But I'm sure that he won't wait too long before writing back. And they'll scan it and send it over here as soon as he's done, I'm sure. It's just…I think it's a little bit much for him."

"I understand," Aunt Cass said softly. Fred's eyes widened slightly as she said this, and he went back to looking across at Hiro. The boy looked as if he wanted to get up and leave now, all his motivation for staying down here slowly dissipating on the spot. His hands were stuffed down into his hoodie pocket, and his expression was unreadable as he kept up his refusal to look over at Fred, or anyone else for that matter. He seemed upset, and put-off.

Reluctantly, Fred acted on impulse. He had a habit of doing that. Really, just look how far the group had gotten on one of his impulses. Hopefully it would pay off in the end; maybe this one could too. So, hoping that something might just be gained by doing it, he took the phone away from his ear. Aunt Cass was in the middle of talking, going on when Fred didn't reply initially. "I guess I shouldn't be pushing for anything else."

Without giving himself to think about what bad could be derived from the situation, Fred put the phone on speaker. Cass went on, her voice now filling up the room and crushing whatever silence had existed for the others. Immediately, Fred registered Hiro's reaction, just as Baymax did. Hiro went absolutely rigid, his eyes widening and rounding out. His hands got out of the confines of his pockets and went instead to clench at the edge of the table, his knuckles white with the effort. He swallowed hard, and his supposed desire to leave seemed to multiply before the groups' eyes. But regardless of whatever was going through his mind, he didn't get up. He kept where he was, frozen like a statue.

"He just needs time," Aunt Cass sighed, Fred's expression torn between happy and pained as he stared Hiro down, noticing his every response and his every breath. Hiro didn't seem to notice anymore, though. He was staring off into space now; Fred could see that his eyes seemed to get shinier and shinier, glazing over with tears as his aunt's voice wafted over to punch him in the gut. "He needs time to…come to terms. With…with what happened to Tadashi, and all that happened afterwards."

Her voice seemed much more choked when she continued, after the briefest of pauses. "And that's something that's willing to wait for. He's only been gone for a little more than a week, but I'm already just picturing what it'll be like when he comes home." She seemed wistful. "We'll have to have a party, won't we? All of us together…to celebrate." She offered a small laugh. Fred didn't reply, just watching Hiro with that same intense look.

Hiro blinked, seeming to regret the motion as he reached up to rub at his eyes quickly. Wasabi seemed skeptical as he looked from the boy to the phone, as if he was worried that Hiro would suddenly scream out and give away their entire plan. Fred had considered the idea a little after he'd put it on speaker, but unlike Wasabi, he refused to allow the idea any sort of growth. Oddly enough, the notion was a small display of trust. Whether or not Hiro understood that was beyond him. But regardless, Hiro didn't cry out, or even give off the sense that he wanted to. He just stared down at the ground, studying it hard as his shoulders curled a bit forward.

"Fred?" Cass was growing worried from the lack of reply. "Are you…are you there?"

Realizing his silence, Fred brought himself to speak. Though he did not take his eyes from Hiro, still looking thoughtful at the other's demeanor. "I'm sorry. No…yeah, that seems like a really good idea. It seems fun. I'm sure he'd love the party; I know we would." He waited, seeing whether or not she had anything more to say. She didn't, so he took in a small breath and went on. "Well…I'll send you over what I have, if I can. It'll be more around lunch I guess." He had to have time to actually come up with something. "And if you want, I'll ask them to forward your message to Hiro," he added, looking at the boy in question as he made the promise. "I'm sure he'd really appreciate hearing it from you."

Hiro curled up a little bit more, as if he was trying to shield himself from something.

Cass' voice was still light, and softer with relief. "Thank you," she absolutely gushed. Fred started to warm up a proper response to the gratitude, when she suddenly continued. "I was actually going to call and invite you and the other kids to come and eat dinner with me on New Year's." He stilled, a little bit surprised at the invitation. New Year's wasn't far away at all. Just a couple days or so. He'd completely forgotten. "I know you might have something to do— you shouldn't feel like you have to send your free time over here. But…I was thinking that after everything that's happened, I could offer you this at the very least. I was trying to think of something I could do for you all, and this was the first thing that came to my mind."

Fred grimaced and finally tore his gaze away from Hiro to turn and look over at Honey Lemon and Wasabi. But the others looked just as much at a loss. They couldn't possibly go over there, right? But the thought of refusing such an offer from Aunt Cass, who was struggling with all of this just like they were…it was enough to turn Fred's stomach. Not to mention that their being there for her would probably do wonders to help. But…that being said…they just couldn't. Could they…?

As it was, he couldn't bring himself to reject her now. So he went on with a small it of weariness. "That could be fun!" he said, noticing the looks that were being aimed at him from Honey Lemon and Wasabi. "We might be doing something then, yeah. But we can definitely see whether or not we could do that. It'd be great." Wasabi shook his head furiously, and Honey Lemon met the motion with a reproachful glare. Fred just continued. "We'll get back to you on that. Maybe we can work something out."

"Of course," Aunt Cass said, sounding bright. There was a small pause, which was a little bit awkward to sit through. Thankfully it did not last long before Cass started to draw the conversation to a full close. "I'll talk to you later then. I'm sorry for being such a bother, and I hope it isn't too much trouble for you to keep me posted." It wouldn't be a bother at all under normal circumstances. The problem was, Fred was starting to have trouble keeping his lies separate and making sure he could back up each one. "So thank you. It means a lot— what you all are doing. Especially you."

He smiled painfully again. "Yup," he chirped. "We're more than happy to." Finding that there was no point in dragging things out farther, and finding that the longer this went on, the more room there was for the plan to fall apart, Fred gave a small cough. "Well, I'll send you those…those things later. I think you'll like them." Honey Lemon ducked her head, drawing her hands through her hair. There was a stressed grimace on her features. "But I've got to go now. I've got…to teach Wasabi how to use coasters." The excuse tumbled out of his mouth awkwardly, sounding lame even to him.

Aunt Cass bought it though, as trusting and as grateful as she was. The haze of relief she felt with a solution to this predicament was still surrounding her on all sides, it seemed. But it was lifting gradually, wasn't it? What would they do when she was finally able to see through all of this mess? To pick out an odd-sounding phrase and dissect it? When would she point at him and demand: "Now hang on a second, what are you doing there?" Not today, apparently. But _when_? "Of course," she said. "I'm keeping you from your friends. You go on ahead. I'll just be here."

She laughed after this, as if it was meant as a joke. But it all just sounded sad. He knew that she would still be there. Because now that both Hiro and Tadashi were gone, that was all that was left for her to do. Sit around and wait for what would happen next, because she had been unable to stop things from going from bad to worse. To her, things were starting to look up again. To the rest of them, to those that knew that was happening, it was still murky. Maybe the water was starting to clear, but you still had to squint in order to make out shapes or colors. She was picturing some oasis, and they were still trying to skim off the surface.

"Bye, Aunt Cass," Fred said, his voice softer with the farewell.

A smile was evident in her voice when she returned the goodbye. "Talk to you later, Fred."

There was a small click, and then nothing. Silence came back to fill the room, and after a few seconds, Fred put down his phone with a small thud. Honey Lemon seemed cautious as she looked over at Hiro, who still had not changed. He still looked stiff as a board, and he was still avoiding eye contact as if it was the plague. His eyes were still shining over and glazed; if Fred didn't know any better, he would have thought that there was a wet streak down the side of his face, as if a tear had accidentally been let loose. Quietly, Honey Lemon tilted her head to the side. "You okay, Hiro?" she prodded, her voice gentle and quiet.

He didn't reply, keeping to himself now. Wasabi seemed disappointed at the change, looking down at the table with rueful expression. Fred felt the most responsible, though. He'd assumed that doing that would help Hiro, if only in the smallest kind of sense. The night before, he seemed to have been so upset at the thought of Aunt Cass. He'd blamed it on the fact that she would be angry with him, and he didn't want to face that— wasn't that the excuse he gave? Well…didn't this just show him that he couldn't have been more wrong with that assumption?

Again, an idea looked like it was backfiring.

By this point, he really shouldn't be as surprised or dejected as he was. He should just expect it now.

He sighed and reached up to rub at his forehead, trying to banish away a headache before it could really originate. He wished that he could do something. Ever since he had first heard the news that Tadashi had died, that was the one thought that had gone through his head. He wished that could do something. He wished he could have done something to prevent Tadashi's funeral, and he wished that he could have done something to stop Hiro from ending up on that hospital bed.

When you look back at things, you always know exactly what could have been done in precaution of horrible events. He probably could have grabbed Tadashi's arm and dragged him after the group after the Showcase, refusing to let go of his friend's arm so that he wouldn't have had a chance to turn around and rush into the inferno. With Hiro…well, he could have made more of an effort to reach out to him. He could have been less insensitive. Knowing what he did now, when Hiro was holed up in his room day after day, Fred would have certainly broken down the boy's door and breathed more life into him. It could have helped just a little bit, at the very least. And that was what he should have done.

That was what he knew now. And he knew that later, he would probably know exactly what he should have done to make this situation better, too. But that was the thing. You can always look back at something and declare what would have made perfect sense to do. But when you were in the thick of it all, it never comes to you. You can never act on the spot, in situations like these— this sense of helplessness and desperation and frustration were all you could see.

He guessed that was just what made knowing it all _later _all the more worse.

Hiro started to stand up. It looked like he was about to leave. The riddle seemed to have been forgotten, if just for now. In the wake of what had just occurred, it was clear that Hiro's tolerance of being outside of his room was pretty much used up. He pushed away from the table and started to turn for the exit of the kitchen. But Fred spoke up before he could turn his back. To his relief, Hiro did not ignore him. He didn't turn back to look at him, but he didn't walk out.

Fred's expression was pained. But he forced the question out anyway. "Hiro…could you do something for us…please?"

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"Are you sure?" Aunt Cass asked, her expression torn as she looked over at Hiro. The little boy was sitting across from her, his pencil scribbling furiously across a piece of notebook paper in front of him. Her eyes seemed clouded and concerned, and despite the tone of her voice, she was anxious to press her point across to the young child. "Because honey, if you want to go back down to your grade, you can. I would understand completely. You wouldn't be making me mad, I promise."

Hiro continued to scrawl. From Aunt Cass' perspective, it was impossible to decipher what he was doing. In reality, he was solving an equation he had seen and committed to memory earlier that day in a calculus classroom. The work was taking up half the page, and he wasn't done yet. Juggling the hard equation and speaking at the same time, Hiro replied in a small mumble. "I don't wanna go back to my grade. They're all dumb down there."

Aunt Cass sighed wearily. She looked down, picking at her jeans with a trace of anxiety. "Well…yes," she relented a little reluctantly. But then she shook her head. "But they're nicer down there too, honey. Right? There's not as many…" She trailed off, biting down on her lower lip as words seemed to fail her. She just took to staring over at her young nephew with a grimace. He took this moment to perk and look up from his work. He raised his eyes to meet hers, and her heart seemed to twist and cave in on itself.

His eye was hurt— it had started to swell a bit, and a bruise would surely form. Today, some kid had tripped him; that's what Hiro had said. Hiro said he'd tripped over the foot that they'd jutted out into the hallway, and he'd hit his eye on the handle of the closest door. That was what had merited the wound. Aunt Cass had been distraught to say the least. She'd called the school, nearly screaming in rage at the thought of her little boy being shoved around by kids nearly twice his age. She'd gotten a reassurance that this would be looked into, but it wasn't enough for her. She was rethinking everything. It was only Hiro's third week as a freshman. She was clearly wanting to make this week the last.

Hiro offered her a toothy grin. "I'm okay," he chirped. "I don't mind."

Aunt Cass' heart tore more. Her shoulders slacked, and a severe frown creased over her expression. "You don't mind?" she repeated, only finding more fault in the words. "You should mind, honey! You got hurt! You got hurt all because of some mean bully." She shook her head. "You've got to back to your own grade," she said, Hiro's face falling immediately. He put down his pencil, the calculus equation going unsolved for the moment. It was close, but not done yet. "You're not ready for high school, yet, Hiro. You're not even ten."

"I'm ready!" Hiro squeaked, his voice sharpening with sorrow all at once. Cass sighed through her nose, but did not cut him off. He looked down, picking up his piece of paper and shoving it forward to display. "Look! Look! I'm not even in this class and I can do it! I'm ready Aunt Cass, I wanna be in high school! I don't wanna go back to recess and parties and boring stuff." She looked at the tiny numbers and figures on the paper. Her stare was heavy. "I'll be good, Aunt Cass. I want to do this! Don't make me go back."

Cass wilted further. She seemed more than just a little bit stressed. "Hiro, why do you want to go to a school where people bully you?" she asked. She didn't want to wrench him out against his will, but she was dangerously close to doing just that. "You'll have much more fun back with your old friends. Your old grade!"

Hiro looked down with a scowl. "I didn't have any friends there, either," he grumbled.

Cass winced. "Sure you did…" she mumbled softly, though the objection came out soft. It was true— Hiro had never spent recess with anyone, and he had never gone to a friend's house after school like so many other kids did. He hadn't even sat with anyone on the bus; he had read a book to school and back all by himself. So maybe using that excuse wasn't really the best for Aunt Cass to do. It wasn't like Hiro would turn to fall back into the arms of other friends. The kids back in the elementary school probably didn't even notice he was gone yet. But still— she couldn't just let him keep getting tossed around. What kind of guardian would she be if she did something like that?

"Are you sure you want to stay in high school?" Cass pressed, prodding as far as she possibly could. Hiro's scowl didn't lift, but he still didn't argue. He was quiet. "Don't feel like you have to, honey. I know that this was a big deal for you, and it's a chance that nobody ever gets. I know that the teachers all said you were special, and I'm certainly not going to tell you that you aren't. But I want you to do what makes _you_ happy. I don't want you to worry about anyone else, okay? Forget what all the teachers told you, or _are_ telling you. Do you really want to do this?"

There was a long pause. For a moment, Cass dreaded that she would be forced to dig into him harder to get out the real answer. But he replied soon enough. Looking back up at her with that same bruising eye, he gave a small nod. His voice was high and squeaky, but it was self-assured when he spoke next. "Yeah. I do." Cass seemed pained at the earnest affirmation, and he moved to say quickly: "I'm going to be so good at school that it won't even matter that the other kids think I'm weird. I'm going to be so good they have no choice but to be nice."

The words brought a sense of pride to kindle itself in Cass' chest. She tilted her head to the side, swelling up with love and affection towards her little nephew, who grinned even more in response. "I'm going to make you proud of me," Hiro went on, looking more and more eager by this point. "And Tadashi too. I'll be the greatest. I promise."

"Aw, honey," Cass said immediately. She turned, standing up and skirting around the table so that she could crouch down beside him. Squatting down to his height – even when he was sitting in his chair – she was reminded just how tiny he was. He was so short for his age. They were waiting for a growth to shoot him up a little bit more, but it wasn't coming so far. She smile sweetly at him. "You know I'm already very proud of you, honey, don't you?" she asked, her head tilting to the side. "You don't have to try to make me what I already am."

He grinned wider. "I know," he reassured cutely. "I just like hearing you say it."

Aunt Cass scoffed. But after a moment she caved. "Alright," she sighed, her shoulders slumping as she looked at the boy as if to ask what in the world she was supposed to do with him. "You can stay in high school," she said, feeing a rush of love at the beam that split across his face with the agreement. Quickly, she added: "_But _you will tell me whenever you get trouble from anyone," she warned, her voice sharpening a tad. "And then I will have a word with every single person in that school, I swear." This part came out in a low sigh— it was like she was more talking to herself than him.

But it didn't really matter, either way. Hiro stopped listening after 'Alright.'

"Yes!" he cheered. Hiro flew forward, his arms shooting out and wrapping so tightly around Aunt Cass that she was worried she would choke. She stiffened with surprise at first, but she quickly adjusted to envelope Hiro in a hug that was just as crushing. "Thank you!" the little boy sang, his voice shrill and eliciting another bubble of laughter from her. "I love you, Aunt Cass!"

She rolled her eyes. "Yeah, yeah," she sighed. "I love you too, you monkey." She pulled away, reaching up and drawing a gentle hand through his hair. "Go and get your brother," she said. "Dinner's been in the oven for about ten minutes now, okay? And wash your hands, too. You've got pencil marks all over them."

Hiro obeyed instantly. He hopped off his chair, elated as he started to rush towards the stairs. Aunt Cass turned, starting to divert herself from the topic now to focus on preparing dinner the rest of the way. But Hiro doubled back quickly, her attention being snapped away as he turned to grab up his piece of paper with the almost-solved problem. "I gotta show him this!" he squeaked. "I'll bet he can't solve it."

She started to turn for the oven. "Be nice, Hiro," she chided, the three words passing over her tongue quite frequently as they came out in a sigh.

"I will!" Hiro gathered the paper up close to him and he was about to run upstairs again. But before he did, he veered over to Aunt Cass instead. He flew at her a second time, nearly causing her to fall on her face as he hugged tightly around her legs. She gave her own high noise of shock, looking down at him incredulously. He just looked up at her and offered another gap-toothed beam. It made her remember how much time he had spent sucking his thumb as a baby, and her heart melted.

Hiro gave out a warm hum. "Last hug!" he cheeped.

She softened and bent down, hugging her youngest to her chest and giving him a tender kiss on the head. "I love you," she reminded, like she usually did at least five times a day. "And I am already very proud of you. Don't you ever think otherwise. Alright?" Hiro nodded quickly, and she did the same. She hugged him tighter for a split second before letting him loose and standing back up. She smiled down at him encouragingly. "Alright then, go and get your brother," she repeated. "It's time for dinner. I made your favorite."

The rest of the night had passed picture-perfectly. They'd eaten dinner and then cracked open a board game. Hiro couldn't even remember what board game it was, if he was being perfectly honest. All he remembered was how happy he had felt just being there and having fun with Aunt Cass and Tadashi. He'd stayed up far past his usual bedtime, and Aunt Cass had baked cookies for later. They'd all watched a movie sprawled together on the couch, and when it _was _time to go to sleep, Aunt Cass had tucked in Hiro extra tight, and had kissed him on the forehead just a little bit longer than normal.

The situation that had gotten him there had been bad to say the least. His eye hurt for the rest of the week, and within the next two hours, it was completely black and blue. But that night he'd felt far too loved to stop and feel sorry for himself. He'd just been so happy back then, to have both of them with him and now to be in high school at the same time. It had all fallen into place, then. Or at least, that was how it had seemed to him.

It had seemed…just absolutely perfect.

Back then.

But…then again…a lot of stuff used to feel that way.

"Hiro? …Hiro!"

Hiro went rigid in surprise at the sound of his name. At the tangible sound, anyway. He jerked, turning and looking over at who had spoken in a sense of shock. Gogo was holding her phone tightly in her hand, her head tilted to the side as she looked at the boy, concern shining in her eyes. The rest of the group seemed just as put-off as well, studying Hiro as if they were waiting for him to capsize or fall over on the spot.

They were all bundled up in coats and hats, their faces already pink with the cold. It was starting to snow again, and they could only figure that such a thing was good for them. Like the rest of their plans so far, it wasn't fool-proof in the slightest. But it was enough for them to go off of in the hopes that it would be of some sort of assistance to their cause. It was just a few pictures; that was all that they needed, and it was all that Fred had promised Hiro would have to do. All he had asked Hiro to do was just stand in some vaguely-wooded area in the snow for a few snapshots. And the others, catching onto the idea slowly, quickly joined in the effort of persuasion.

Which led to here. Gogo had woken up, and they had all filed outside to Fred's backyard. They'd gone over towards the edge, where there was a line of trees that seemed to act as a barrier around the mansion. It was good enough to serve their purpose, as long as they got the frame right. But soon after they'd started to arrange themselves and figure everything out, Hiro had grown quiet. He took instead to staring off into space. He seemed to be thinking about something. The others had stood for some time, trying to decide what they should do. How they should rouse Hiro to attention.

Gogo had finally decided that enough was enough. If they were going to let Hiro get lost and messed up inside of his own head, then they would have just let him stay inside his room. Not anxious to have the boy get upset all over again, she was the one to take initiative and break the silence. And as soon as she did, it was like clicking on a light in a room that was pitch-black before. His neck snapped up and his eyes widened a little bit. Self-consciously, he pulled the coat, which Fred had forced him to wear for the picture, a little bit tighter around himself.

He blinked rapidly and looked over at the rest, who were standing a few yards in front of him. "What?" he asked, his voice dulled over a bit. Baymax was standing close beside Hiro, glowing a soft orange to provide warmth to his patient and ensure that he would be safe in the frigid weather. He would have to move for the picture, but for now it was alright for him to linger. Hiro turned from one face to the other, sullen now and recovering his irritability from the awkward mental lapse he'd fallen into. "I was just…I wasn't…" He trailed off, and ended up not finishing at all. He just let his words drift away into silence, the boy locking his jaw back instead of going on.

Gogo looked from her phone over to Hiro. She was offering a small grin, but it was a little bit weary on her lips. "We've got to just take a few pictures," she said, repeating what they'd made clear about five times over so far. Hiro shoved his hands down into his coat pocket, biting down in the effort to keep his teeth from chattering. "If you could smile a bit or maybe…look interested? I'm sure Aunt Cass would really like that? She might be a little bit happier."

"I don't even know why we have to mess with it," he growled, looking down and dragging the toe of his boot through the snow. His expression was morose and weighted down. He swallowed hard and tried not to let anything other than irritation leak through to his voice. The boy fought the urge to duck his head away or cover his eyes, when really that was all he wanted to do. He just wanted to go back inside, and hide away where nobody would be able to find him. Where he could be alone.

Somewhere where that tiny kid from before wouldn't look at him and ask with an owlish look of bemusement: 'Who are _you_?'

"It'll make Aunt Cass happy," Honey Lemon said, her voice bright and cheery.

Hiro flashed her a reproachful stare. "You mean it'll make her believe that you guys aren't _lying _to her?"

There was a brief second of silence at the retort.

Fred cleared his throat and asked blandly: "Would it make you feel better if we said yes?" he asked.

Hiro looked over at him, his face falling. He didn't reply; he just tucked back into himself. It was as much a response as they were going to get, it looked like. But they would be content so far. It was enough that Hiro had come out and decided to go along with everything. He had a right to turn them down, and even to get angry at them over the mere thought of something like this. But he hadn't. They had trooped down here in the snow and had planted Hiro in front of some trees. The way that it looked, it would seem as if the trees went on into a thick forest. When really it was only a small garden situated in the back of the yard.

They wouldn't even dream of complaining about a single thing.

Honey Lemon grinned encouragingly, clasping her hands behind her back. "We only need a few pictures!" she pointed out. "Then maybe we can go back inside and have some hot chocolate or something. We had fun cooking the other day, right?" Hiro didn't really respond to this one, but it was probably better that way, taking in the look that was currently on his face. Regardless, she attempted to remain bright and bubbly. At least she was good at doing that, anyway. "In fact, we should start planning when our Christmas is!" She was desperate to clear up the tension that was hanging over everyone. "And what we'll do, too! You can have first pick."

Fred eyed her a bit warily. He cleared his throat and said a little reluctantly: "After this."

Honey Lemon frowned a tad. But she relented and nodded. "Of course," she agreed. "First thing's first."

There was an awkward pause next. Hiro stared down at the ground, looking numbly down at the snow, which was up past his ankles. The group of friends standing across from him seemed unsure how to take initiative in the moment. They looked at one another wearily, waiting for someone to take charge. Gogo took up arms and cleared her throat. "Alright, then," she said. "Baymax, bud, we're going to need you to step to the side a little bit. You can't really be in the picture with Hiro. It won't work that way."

Baymax turned away from Hiro with this. He blinked slowly, and it was clear that he seemed confused over the request. "I am Hiro's personal healthcare companion," he said. Gogo sighed, her shoulders slumping a little bit. But the robot did not register the shift in mood as he just continued. "I cannot leave him alone— especially when the temperature outside is ten degrees." He looked down at himself, and at the soft orange glow that was coming off from him and over to Hiro. "If I am to leave Hiro, then his core body temperature would drop. This could lead to drowsiness, weak pulse, shallow breathing, lack of coordination—"

"Yeah, yeah, we got it, pal," Wasabi said weakly. "But really, it'll only be a few seconds. We just need to get Hiro in a few pictures so we can send them to Aunt Cass. Hiro won't get hypothermia or anything like that— trust me." He turned and grinned cheekily over at Hiro, who roused just enough to meet his gaze, a small frown pulling down the sides of his lips. "I think Hiro's good enough to stand by himself for just a little bit, don't you?"

Hiro's eyes flashed just a little bit. Wasabi hoped that he might even grin, but the boy turned and looked away again before there was a chance to. Baymax still seemed reluctant to obey, but he truly only had one option. Still looking intently at Hiro, who seemed a bit flustered under the attention, Baymax turned and started to shuffle away. He only went about two yards though. It was clear that he was not keen on going any further, as he turned to plant himself in place to look back for Hiro. Gogo huffed wearily at the stubbornness, but she realized that fighting against it was pointless. They'd asked for something exactly like this, hadn't they?

She sighed and started to raise up and level her phone again. Hiro looked even tinier on the screen. She raised her eyebrows, positioning herself to make sure that Baymax was completely out of the shot. Now that Baymax left his side, Hiro was beginning to realize just how cold it actually was. With the portable heater now removed, Hiro's teeth began to chatter, and he stiffened, pulling his hood over his head and hunching underneath the coat he had been given. A scowl pulled over his features and he fought the urge to scowl.

He didn't look happy at all, though.

Gogo frowned, debating whether or not she should snap the picture anyway. Picking up on the line of thought and knowing that he didn't want to give Aunt Cass something that wouldn't satisfy her, he looked at Hiro a little desperately. "Hiro, could you…could you smile, maybe?" he asked, the plea a little awkward. Hiro sighed in the back of his throat, looking irritable as he hung his head again. Hastily, Fred tried to amend himself. "I mean…it's just— she really misses you. I just feel like…maybe you would both feel better if there was a little bit more…happiness to it, you know?"

Hiro closed his eyes tightly. There was a stretch of silence, and Fred's expression grew even more uncomfortable. He reached up and rubbed at his forehead, looking strained now. "I can't…look, can we just go back inside?" he asked, his voice weighted down and weary. "It's cold. And…I just don't want to do this. I just realized. I-It's stupid. This whole thing is stupid."

"No it's not, Hiro!" Honey Lemon fumbled. Her eyes widened, and her face fell a little bit. She reached up to correct her glasses, which had gone a bit askew on her nose. "You can't give up now, Hiro! Please? You heard Aunt Cass this morning, didn't you? She doesn't hate you. She _loves _you, and she's just worried for you."

She frowned, tilting her head to the side. When she asked her next question, it came out in a soft murmur. "What are you so scared of, Hiro?"

This caused him to stiffen, and she looked like she immediately began to regret her words. She started to try and fix herself, but Hiro was speaking before she could even start. "I'm not— I'm not scared of anything," he muttered, his voice corrosive and weak at the same time, somehow. He turned and flashed a look over at Honey Lemon that was supposed to be hard; yet the glare came off wrong just because of the fact that it was so weak underneath the initial layer of anger. Nevertheless, he locked his jaw backwards and tried to keep himself together. "I'm not _scared_, okay?" he pressed. Honey Lemon wilted, but kept quiet. "Don't make me seem like I'm some stupid kid. Alright?"

"I-I didn't mean to make you sound that way," she stammered out, her eyes rounding out. "I would never try and belittle you like that, Hiro. I just want to help you feel better. That's all we want to do."

"Well then put the _phone _away!" Hiro snapped out, his voice suddenly spiking in anger. Honey Lemon jerked in shock, completely unprepared for the sudden change in his mood. He turned and shot her a withering glare, gritting his teeth. He shook his head. "I don't want to do this." Gogo lowered her phone, frowning as she gave up on trying to capture the boy in a photo fitting enough to email Aunt Cass. Hiro reached up and tore off his hood. "I don't want to do this," he repeated, pressing his hands tightly against his eyes. "I don't want to do this, put the phone away."

Fred looked at Gogo with a desolate stare, but the other was already tucking away her mobile device. There wasn't much else they could do— Gogo certainly wasn't about to openly refuse Hiro's pleads. He was clearly upset. As the thought crossed her mind, Gogo looked back up, her heart sinking as she saw Hiro plop and sit down on the ground. He pulled his legs up to his chest, closing his eyes tightly and ducking his head down. Again, he was reverting into his turtle shell.

Immediately, Baymax came back over, sitting down beside the boy and starting to glow a bright orange again. From where he stood, Fred could feel the waves of heat start to thaw through his own coat. He wilted, turning and looking at Wasabi with a questioning look. Because by this point, he was certainly at a loss. His friend hesitated, looking a little torn. After a second of thought, he sighed and walked a few paces closer to Hiro before he sat down in the snow too.

Fred was puzzled by the movement, biting his lip as he looked between Hiro and Wasabi, who were now only a few feet apart. Hiro was a statue, curled up into himself and not moving whatsoever. His hood was being buffeted this way and that thanks to the wind, but with Baymax beside him he was not shivering anymore. Fred sighed wearily, not knowing what else to do. So he dropped down to sit as well, going cross-legged in the snow as he propped his chin up on one hand.

Honey Lemon and Gogo followed suit, just because they weren't sure what else they should do.

Silence congested the small clearing. Nobody was sure what to say. The only sound was the wind that made it all seem even colder. Honey Lemon shuffled a little closer to Baymax and Hiro, just seeking the warmth that the robot was giving off. Gogo was looking over at Hiro, her expression dark and wilted. It was clear that Baymax was concerned for the boy, as he turned and looked steadily down at the child. She wondered if his heartrate was up— if he was falling into some other kind of panic attack. His outburst showed that he was strung-out, and stressed. Their encouragement and struggles to get him to brighten only seemed to make him worse. Maybe they should have realized that they might be pushing him too far with this.

They should have been more careful with him.

Wasabi cleared his throat. He leaned over a bit closer to Hiro and asked softly: "You wanna know the answer to the riddle, Little Man?" he asked, his voice gentle and soft. Hiro didn't react at first, but after a second he lifted his head, peeking up from his arms with a sullen frown. Gogo realized that his eyes were unnaturally bright with tears. He didn't say anything, but he did turn to look at Wasabi. The other offered him a bright grin. "I got the answer. Don't you want to know how I do it?"

He sighed and turned to look back down at the ground. For a heartbeat Wasabi thought that he would turn the offer down. But to the other's relief, Hiro quietly responded. "Sure." There wasn't too much elation or excitement in his voice at all. But it was an agreement, and however minimal it was, Wasabi would take it for all it was worth. Which was quite a lot, if he was being perfectly honest with everything. Beggars couldn't be choosers, right?

Wasabi nodded. "It's the letters," he explained. "You just count all the letters of them. Any number, really, and you can whittle it down to four." Hiro perked at this, looking confused. Wasabi could see him quickly trying to check the solution, as if to actually make sure it worked. He laughed. "See? No math involved. I've just been telling it so often recently that I get faster and faster with the totals. Pretty neat, huh?"

Hiro had looked back up from his knees. He stared off into space for a minute, his gaze creased in thought. But then his shoulders slouched, and he gave out a huff. It was like he was saying to himself: "Well why in the world didn't you think of _that _one?" He reached up and tugged his hood lower over his head, away from the wind. "That's dumb," he sighed. Despite the words, there wasn't any anger in his tone. He mostly just sounded tired.

"That's not dumb," Wasabi protested, his voice light. "What _is _dumb was the time that I asked Fred if he knew where Westminster Abbey was, and he said it was in the west."

Fred flared at once. "_Hey_," he said, an edge to his words. "Technically, I wasn't _wrong. _If you just go _far _enough west, you'll get to it." His face fell and his forehead creased as he looked down at the snow. "At least I think it's west…" He lifted up one finger and started to point in a direction, starting to mutter thoughtfully to himself underneath his breath. Ironically enough, he was pointing east from where they were. Hiro eyed him skeptically.

"Or the time when Fred was adamant on the fact that he saw a Dodo bird once," Honey Lemon recalled, quickly latching onto the conversation as best she could. Again, there was a small gleam of disbelief in Hiro's eyes. Maybe even a little bit of amusement. Seeing this, she pressed on. "We all spent nearly an hour trying to prove to you that they were extinct," she said, turning to her friend with this. "You _still_ claimed that you saw one on vacation once."

Fred nodded confidently. "Oh, that's because I did," he stated. "I swear."

Gogo scoffed. "Just like you swore that you didn't break the window in my lab."

He showed both of his hands in a gesture of surrender. "I didn't. I'm _completely_ innocent."

She rolled her eyes. "You were standing there with a baseball bat in your hands, and the ball was nowhere to be found," she admonished. "I think that's enough proof to know that you were the only one that could have done it. You're lucky I took the fall for you with campus security."

"I am innocent until proven guilty," Fred quipped. "Besides— it was Tadashi who did it. He just ran away before you could catch him."

Hiro straightened a little bit more. His eyes flashed, and he slowly changed into sitting with his legs crossed rather than pressed against his chest.

"No way," Gogo sighed, looking down at her phone in a dismissive manner. "I'll believe that as soon as I believe that Tadashi was the mastermind behind that plan to sneak into school at midnight and…and what was it you two did…?"

Fred's eyes lit up immediately, a smile splaying over his face. "We put tape _all _over Professor Callaghan's doorway!" he reminded her, his voice going higher with stifled laughter. Hiro's eyes widened. "It was clear tape, so the dude couldn't see it. Aw, man, it was great. We tried to get you all in on it, too, but you guys missed out. You should have seen him walking in— he dropped like a stone. It was the most hilarious thing I have ever seen in my life." He blew out a laugh and shook his head. "Tadashi was crying, he was laughing so hard."

"You could have gotten into so much trouble being there so late," Wasabi remarked, ever the one to stick to morals.

"But we _didn't_. Because we were _cool_," Fred stressed. "Just like the time we went down to the bay and picked up girls all day."

"Mhm," Honey Lemon said dryly. "And how many girls did you 'pick up?'"

"…Well that's irrelevant," Fred snapped. "The point was, Tadashi was a charmer."

"Tadashi wasn't a charmer," Gogo outright laughed. "He tripped walking across a tile floor."

"Not all the time!" Wasabi interjected. "Just those few instances! And then that other time with the pancakes."

"What other time with the pancakes?"

The voice was soft and barely noticeable. That is— they wouldn't have noticed it had it been anyone else's voice. But it wasn't anyone else's voice; it was Hiro's. Everyone turned, immediately remembering themselves and feeling a rush of guilt as they realized that Hiro's eyes were nearly overflowing with unshed tears. His lower lip shook a little bit when nobody replied to him. They just blanched, unsure as to what they should do. Just as quietly, he moved and repeated his question. "What other time with the pancakes?"

Honey Lemon wilted, pained at the sight of the boy's apparent distress.

Fred coughed in the back of his throat. His voice lost most of its flair when he answered. "There was this one time we were all making pancakes at Honey's house. We made like…more than twenty. It was really bad." He sighed. "And Tadashi was really forceful on the idea that he should stack each pancake on top of each other and bring them to the table all at once. We told him everything would fall, but he really wanted to see whether or not he could do it.

"So he put them all on top of each other and he started for the dining room. The stack probably went higher than his head or something— I forgot. I wasn't paying attention and I bumped into him on the way. We thought the pancakes would go everywhere, but Tadashi didn't even flinch from it— he was completely steady. We were all really impressed, until he walked on ahead and then just tripped over absolutely nothing." He offered a wry smile, and a laugh bubbled out from his throat. "So it was just really pathetic, and we would always remind him about it. To give him a hard time."

Fred's smile was a bit sadder now. Hiro blinked, his expression softening as he looked down at the snow. Baymax's eyes were glued on the boy levelly. He didn't even blink anymore; he just focused on the boy's every movement. Every breath he took, and Baymax was aware of it. To the others' astonishments, Hiro let out a single laugh. It was coarse and weak, but it was there. He shook his head. "One time…Tadashi was painting this…little figurine for Aunt Cass. He was so excited when he was done, and he swung out his arms." Hiro blinked, looking down at his hand as it ran absently through the snow. It pricked and burned, but that wasn't important. "It broke. He was really angry."

There was a period of stunned silence.

Gogo rushed in to help the situation before it could burn itself out. "That sounds like him," she laughed, forcing her voice to be warm and peppy. "I remember one time he tried asking out this girl to some movie that was coming out. He got all turned around and mixed up and ended up asking her if she knew the directions to the nearest library. I have no idea how he messed up that bad," she laughed. "He was such a goofball."

Hiro's smile wavered. Though it stretched from ear-to-ear, it was weak and watery.

Wasabi was falling into a fit of chuckles himself now, catching on. "Or that time he was trying to flirt with Emily down the hall from him? She told him that she thought he was cute, and he wound up apologizing to her somehow!"

Honey Lemon pressed her hands to her face. "He was just the _worst_!" she giggled.

Hiro reached up, rubbing at his cheeks as he felt hot tears sting at his cheeks. "You should have seen him try and flirt while he was working," he said, his voice a touch louder. "One time he wasn't paying attention while he was putting whipped cream on hot chocolate. It…it just went _everywhere_."

"Oh my God!" Fred chortled. "Heaven help him when there was a pretty girl around! The world would end!"

Hiro grinned, his shoulders shaking with laughter that eventually could not be suppressed. And before their eyes, as if there was some kind of miracle transpiring, Hiro started to laugh. Not just giggle or chuff— it was an _actual _laugh. He rocked forward, ducking his head as he closed his eyes tightly. His sides split the longer he went on, and he gasped desperately in between laughs. Fred did the same, flopping onto his back in the snow. The two were like hyenas, and though Honey Lemon fell into her own spell of giggles, her episode was more out of sheer relief than anything else.

Wasabi's eyes widened, and looked over at Gogo in shock, a smile splitting his face.

Gogo quickly took out her phone, aligning it perfectly before she snuck a photo.

No sooner did the photo save into her album, did Hiro's laughter subside. He turned and looked down at the ground, his smile slowly vanishing little by little until there was nothing left at all. Instead, the small frown came back to shadow his face, and his eyebrows pulled together. Almost like he was angry, though that couldn't be the case. Fred and Honey Lemon sobered just as quickly once they realized the change.

Hiro stared down oddly at the snow, as if he was trying to ask it what was going on. There was a long stretch of silence. Then, his voice nothing more than a whisper, he said: "I want him back."

Fred pushed himself up into a sitting position again. "So do I," he agreed. "We all do."

It was quiet again— oppressive and unrelenting.

Wasabi broke it, smiling kindly over at Hiro. "You're a lot like him, you know," he said.

Hiro jerked, his head immediately snapping over to look the other's way. His expression changed from confusion to surprise and shock. Something seemed to gleam brightly in the back of his eyes. He opened his mouth to reply, but it was clear that he could not force anything out. His mouth only hung halfway open, leaving him completely mute. Searching Wasabi's face, he forced it closed, hesitating for a second before ducking back down to study the snow instead.

He swallowed hard, and his voice was congested when he said quietly: "I want to go back inside."

"Of course," Gogo said, before anyone else could reply. She had gotten the photo she needed. Pushing herself up, she dusting off her pants before turning and starting for the mansion, making sure she was being followed. And she was. Honey Lemon and Fred each followed suit, looping after her. Baymax stood as well. Hiro was about to do the same and push himself up to his feet, despite the fact that he was already feeling so tired. He was still running low on sleep.

But before he could, he stiffened as a hand went down in front of his face. He looked up to see that Wasabi was extending it down a sign of help. The other's eyes were softer than normal. "C'mon," he urged, when Hiro just froze. "You want some help?" Hiro frowned, seeming somewhat dubious. His eyebrows pulled together and he eyed Wasabi a bit hesitantly. Wasabi just grinned. "Come on, Little Man. We don't have all day, do we?"

Hiro still paused, surveying the gesture as if it was something of a polar body.

But after a second of reluctance, he reached out anyway and took Wasabi's hand.

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'And here's a picture they sent, too. I thought you might like to see it.'

The last line of the email caught Aunt Cass' attention first. There was a wall of text before it, and yet, for the moment, she disregarded it all completely in order to zero in on this one line. She looked at the attachments next, and her heart leapt up into her throat as she realized what it was. She rushed to click on it, so fast that she was dimly afraid she might have damaged her mouse. But it was a risk she was much more than willing to take.

The computer buffered and loaded much too slowly. She was fit to scream with impatience just after the five second mark. Yet thankfully enough, the image worked in transcribing to her computer. It filled the screen, and Cass immediately forgot how to breathe. With how tight her chest became, it felt as if she had just got finished running a complete marathon in under a minute. Inhaling and exhaling became secondary importance to what was on the screen.

It was Hiro.

No— no, it wasn't even just Hiro. It was _her _Hiro. Or at least, it was the most of _her _Hiro she had seen in months. The picture wasn't too large. It looked like it had been taken on a phone, which was logical considering that they would be hiking wherever he was. Hiro was bundled up in a thick winter coat, and his hood was up around his face, which was a little pink from the cold. He still looked skinny, and he still looked a little paler than he usually did. But those features weren't what took her breath away— not at all.

He was _laughing_. Hiro was doubled over at the waist, his eyes bright as a smile wormed from one ear to the other. He was frozen this way, right in the middle of a giggle. Cass' eyes widened to be a million times their normal size, and her hands went up to cover her mouth. She stared at her computer screen in complete and absolute shock, almost unable to comprehend the fact that her baby was actually smiling and laughing where he was now.

When he was here, she could hardly get him to smile. So he was coming along then, wasn't he? He was getting better?

The mere idea more than enough to knock the wind out of her.

She was so happy that for the moment, she didn't even wonder what was in the rest of the letter.

She just sat there, staring at the photo of her child, who she could actually begin to recognize now.

All the doubt, all the worry, all the second guessing that she had been going through since Hiro had left her…now it all seemed completely insignificant.

Because now, she could see a light in her nephew's eyes that brought tears to her own.

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A/N: I live! Sorry for the break! I did my best to get this out between tests and quizzes and my other story Bruises which gets its ten reviews like the very _second_ I put up another chapter. It makes having this whole 'ten-review' standard easy in that I know for a fact I should focus on that, but it's also hard to juggle stories in general. I think so far I've been doing a kind of okay job with handling four stories and all my AP classes…

I'm a very busy person, I have come to realize. So I hope you all will have patience with me! I made this long too, so hopefully it'll make up for it! :)

If you have any questions feel free to ask! I'm very excited for next chapter actually! It's a compilation of scenes I've been wanting to do for a while now! It'll have a lot to do with Hiro's character, and in the next couple chapters I'm really excited to write more about Aunt Cass! I started to leak her back in this chapter just a bit.

I'm pretty sure next update will come via Disneyworld as well! I'm going there for Spring Break which starts next weekend so I'm super pumped. I shall contemplate my stories whilst I shake hands with Mickey Mouse.

Once again, thank you for your patience! Excuse any typos! It's ten at night and I put off studying for Anatomy to get this chapter out, so I've gotta go run and do that. If you point them out kindly, of course I'm always willing to fix them! Or any plot points too— I typed the first half of the chapter in a moving car and I kept getting all sick and it wasn't fun.

The things I do for you all.

(Pst I fixed the riddle. I got it wrong the first time I wrote it. I guess you can tell that I didn't get _that _one either XC My apologies!)


	22. Chapter 22

A/N: Again, I apologize for the small break in updates. Your guys' patience is awesome, and I can't express enough how much relief it gives me. It's not easy to get out so many long chapters like this with four stories going on at once, and to not have anyone ripping at my throat is awesome lol. So thank you! Words cannot describe how much it means to me.

I hope this chapter makes up for the break! It's a long chapter, too, to make up for it.

I didn't get the chance to edit this, so please excuse any typos that you see, and if you point them out kindly, I would be more than happy to fix it, again! Along with anything else awry you could find!

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Tomorrow was New Year's, officially. So the group had resolved that they were going to have to have Christmas – or rather,_ their_ celebration of it – then. They could have a mix-up of both holidays, and, if everything went right, it should be pretty well off. That was what they were telling themselves, anyway. There wasn't really anything else that they _could _tell themselves. If they started to lose the newfound hope that things were starting to look up from this point on, then they might as well throw in the towel entirely.

It wasn't really much. What they were hoping for, that is. It was just withdrawn conversation, handed out only in sporadic intervals. Hiro still stared dully off into space more often than he paid attention to what was happening around him. He was morose most of the time, and he only lingered with the group for a few hours at a time before he made some excuse to get away and be by himself again. By himself being with Baymax, since the robot wasn't about to let him get more than a few yards in any direction away from him.

It'd been more than a week since Hiro had first gotten here. Really, they should be this happy that he was already this willing to cooperate and play along with this whole charade. It could have all played out much worse. He could still be refusing to come an inch out of his room, or he could still be screaming at each and every person that dared to try and even glance over in his direction.

He still wasn't sleeping, and he still didn't want to eat anything— it was a fight between Hiro and Baymax for every morsel of food that was persuaded down the boy's throat. He still looked sick nearly all the time, and he still just didn't have any sense of that smart little boy that the group had learned to love in that short amount of time before the Showcase had happened. Before everything had gone downhill. But still. It could be much worse. Where they were was good.

Good _enough_.

Honey Lemon was currently picking up after breakfast. Hiro hadn't come out to eat with them, but when Gogo had gone to check on him, Baymax had reported quietly through the door that he was just sleeping. Figuring that they shouldn't disrupt what Hiro had not had properly in months, they just resigned themselves to letting him be. He could eat when he woke up later, after all.

So breakfast had gone without Hiro there, and so it was a little bit more confusing as to what the mood should really be. The group used to be happy and carefree— the only problem of theirs had been midterms and finals and tests with college, and even then, it did not leak through past the walls of the school. They could always shrug it off and leave school at school to look forward instead to things like movie nights and jokes and even the occasional road trip. Ever since Tadashi had been torn from them though, they were just the opposite. And ever since this ordeal with Hiro, they were constantly like their own little funeral, parading around to fever stare mournfully at the world.

Now did they start brightening? Did they see this very small, very dim, light and hang onto it? Did they take this newfound sense of hope and immediately trust it? Could they springboard off of the chance that this whole thing would stick and start going back to the way they were before— happy, and blissful, and refusing to focus on any trouble at all? It was tempting, surely. But at the same time, it was frightening as well. Each of them were too scared to take the first initiative, for fear that as soon as they adjusted, everything would fall apart again.

So talk around the table during breakfast was somewhere in between. There was a layer of tension underneath the pleasant conversation, which made it clear of everyone's private concerns. Smiles were genuine, and so was laughter. But every so often, someone would trip up and accidentally remind them all what was happening, or someone would glance over their shoulder and down the hall, as if to see whether or not Hiro had decided to come out of his room. They were little hiccups, but they were enough to keep everyone in check, and from losing their heads as well as their view on things.

Once breakfast was done and over with, Wasabi had slowly gotten around to mentioning that he should go and see his family. Apparently they had been getting onto him recently about avoiding them during the holidays. They were demanding his presence, and so far it was getting to be so frequent, that he awkwardly asked if he could just have the night to go out and be with them. The others had immediately waved him off— saying that of course he could go, and of course they wouldn't mind at all. It wasn't like the request was out of line. They were just lucky that the same could not be said for themselves. Honey Lemon's parents lived too far away for her to visit, and Gogo's mom was currently taking a cruise with her sister. Fred's dad…well, they of all people knew the situation with Fred's dad.

So Wasabi had left in a rush, promising he would be back in time for their Christmas/New Year's celebration tomorrow.

Soon after he had left, Fred and Gogo decided that they should go out and buy everything that they would need to make sure that tomorrow would turn out the best it could be. After all, it wasn't a New Year's Eve without decorations and snacks. And it wasn't Christmas without presents, at the very least. But they were not planning to stop at the very least— Fred had gone on to make a whole list. He'd claimed they needed candy canes, and gingerbread cookies, and eggnog, and the whole nine yards. Even Gogo had seemed enthused, despite the day that they had planned out ahead of them.

Honey Lemon had offered to go out with them and help. But Gogo had made a good point; it was probably safer for her to stay here. Just on the off-chance that something happened with Hiro, they would prefer that she stayed behind to watch the house. And she hadn't been able to argue against the fact. So her other two friends had left, and Honey Lemon found herself picking up the remains of this morning. She had picked up the plates and washed them and put them away. She had wiped down the table and made sure that it was so clean, she could see her own reflection. Then she'd gone over to the living room and picked up the small mess there— though that was more just a few blankets laying around that only needed folding.

Though in the back of her mind, she had to wonder whether it was good— her picking up everything. This whole place certainly didn't look very lived-in. It looked like some sort of model home that only existed for people to walk through and wish that they could stay longer than five minutes. Wouldn't this whole thing go by easier if there was a little bit more 'home' to this place? Maybe then, Hiro would feel a little bit better about staying here. It could feel a little cozier, though that was a little bit ambitious of a reach for a place as huge as this.

The thought crossed Honey Lemon's mind and she reluctantly leaned over, grabbing one of the blankets that she had folded and placed neatly on top of the couch. She turned and dropped it, watching the thing fall to the ground in a heap. She looked around and took up stock with the rest of the room, to see whether or not the change even mattered. To her, it didn't look all that altered. It looked pretty much the same, and she tried not to let the thought get to her too much. It probably didn't mean anything, anyway. And to Hiro, it might appear different, she never knew.

She decided to leave the blanket just in case it did work.

The idea seemed to hold gravity for her, and inwardly Honey Lemon wondered when it had come to this. When had it become suddenly so important for her to stand in the middle of the den of a mansion and overthink things so much that she was now agonizing over whether or not to leave a blanket on the floor? She let out a gusty sigh and thanked the stars that Fred had given his 'staff' time off for the holidays. At least she looked like a fool privately, or only to her friends. If there were other people milling around here, her embarrassment would be tenfold.

Well, they would have a few other problems on their hands if that was the case…

She shook her head, rolling her eyes at her own attitude as she swung her arms a little awkwardly at her sides. She turned and looked over her shoulder, frowning as she scanned the hallway directly behind her. There was still nothing, and she looked at the clock with a trace of concern. On the inside, she figured that she shouldn't worry. She told herself that there was nothing to worry over, and she probably shouldn't do anything that she would regret.

But worry was a driving force, and so she turned to go back down towards Hiro's room. Her heels clicked as she went down the hall; she grimaced at the noise as it bounced from wall to wall. It wasn't that she thought Hiro would get upset at her if he heard her coming…not really. It was mostly just because of that fact that she felt guilty whenever she _did _resort to doing this: going over and investigating Hiro over and over. She felt bad that she kept worrying over him, and checking him nearly every other second. She sighed listlessly, recalling the time that Hiro had snapped at her for treating him like a child. She'd pressed that she wouldn't look down on him like that, but she was proving herself wrong just by doing this, wasn't she?

She would just walk by. That was all she'd do. If she didn't hear anything weird, she would just walk right on by. It would seem like she was up to something else, and just passing by his door. It would be better than knocking on the door— if she knocked, then she could risk not only giving away her worry, but also waking him up when he had finally started to get some sleep. However, as she was walking by, she was stopped short by an odd noise that leaked through to drift into the hall. Her forehead creased, and she leaned over a little bit to hear better through the wood.

It sounded like talking. It sounded like just one person talking, and as Honey Lemon stood in the hallway, her fingernails biting in the palms of her hands, she realized that there was something very familiar about this specific voice. Confusion crowded her expression, among other things that she wasn't exactly brave enough to decipher completely. One arm reached out towards the door, and at first she tried to pull herself back and refrain from overstepping her boundary.

She tried to tell herself that it didn't mean anything. What _could _it mean, anyway? She just turned and tried to bring herself to leave it behind. But she wasn't strong enough, and the more she listened, the more she began to realize that that voice _was _what she thought it was. Her eyes were wide, and her hands fumbled a little shakily as she turned to push the door open. She broke into the room, and the voice became louder and more prominent, now that the door was not there to muffle any of the sound. And her heart immediately stopped in her chest, and every muscles of hers seemed to tighten and stiffen with shock.

She had been right. The voice _was _familiar. Heartbreakingly so.

Hiro was sitting on the ground, his legs drawn up tightly to his chest. He was hunched over, so that his chin could balance on top of his knees. His back was to Honey Lemon, and at first he was not even aware of her entrance, he was staring so fixedly at Baymax, who was standing in front of him. Honey Lemon's jaw went black, and her eyes went huge behind her glasses as she saw that the robot's chest was shining brightly.

Shining back at the two of them was_ Tadashi_. Her old friend was staring straight back, and for half a reeling second, she was under some kind of impression that he was talking _to _Hiro. That in some messed up technological _thing_, Hiro had somehow conjured up this video feed of his brother. But she realized soon after the rash thought occurred to her that this was just some sort of video. A recording from some time ago in the past, when things had been much simpler and happier and just _perfect_.

Tadashi was currently in the middle of speaking. Honey's heart fell to her feet entirely, and sorrow was clouding over face like an actively-brewing storm. Tadashi was ecstatic and raving. His eyes had that old shine and gleam to them that could light up the entire city of San Fransokyo, just like they always did when he was talking about something he loved. And as she listened numbly to him continue, she realized that that was exactly the case.

"His favorite movie right now is _Iron Man_. He tries to act like he's the most grown up person in the world, but you should see the way he reacts when he sees Gummy Bears." Tadashi grinned, rolling back and forth across the ground on his lab rolling chair. He shook his head, an extreme amount of fondness spread across every crevice of his face. He turned and looked back at what was recording him. Honey Lemon felt tears prick at her eyes as she realized that Baymax had taken the video— that Tadashi had been talking to his robot in such a way as this.

Tadashi continued, leaning back in the chair with a happy sigh. "I think you would love him— I've really got to trick him into getting down here so the two of you can meet. He doesn't really like to go out anywhere really; he mostly just likes to do things by himself. He's a bit antisocial, despite all the warnings I've given him about that." His expression clouded over a little bit when he said this, but he quickly recovered to shake his head. "Anyway. I think you'd be just the thing for him." He turned to flash a smile. "It would be perfect for the two of you. It might offer a sense of…" He gestured awkwardly, but his smile was relentless. Just like it always had been. "Balance," he finished tenderly.

The video ended abruptly. Baymax was now looking straight over at Honey Lemon. If Honey didn't know any better, she would have thought that the robot was startled— ashamed at being caught in some heinous act. Hiro instantly stiffened once the image on Baymax's screen turned off. He started to scramble to his feet, the action so quick that it made him stumble woozily to the side. He bent low and held his head in his hands, the smallest growl of pain leaking out of his throat. Honey Lemon started to walk over, reaching out as if to grab him if he fell. But as soon as she moved to rush for him, Hiro realized that Baymax was looking at something over his head.

He whirled around – again, much too fast – and his eyes grew to be twice their normal size once they landed on Honey Lemon. She was stock-still and rigid, her mouth halfway open as if she was about to try and justify herself. But she was speechless, just taking to staring at Hiro in astonishment. He looked freshly pale and shaky, and Honey Lemon wondered if he had gotten sick _again_. His eyes were red and swollen from crying, and tears tracked thickly down his face. When he turned and looked back at her, he looked almost angry, his eyes flashing as he reached up to wipe at his cheeks with his jacket sleeve.

There was a long bout of silence.

Honey Lemon slowly stuttered out the first thing she could manage. "What…what was that?" she rasped, her voice sounding much too hollow and bare. The image of Tadashi burned in the back of her mind, and she found that she could hardly bring herself to focus on anything other than the image of her long-dead friend. She could hardly get her words out. Suddenly all she could think of was him. All of her sorrow and her grief that she had been putting off in the attempts to help Hiro and Aunt Cass cope was swelling up to burst in her chest like a balloon.

It swarmed her mind like ants swarmed a picnic. Frankly, she wanted to see him again. She wanted to hear that laughing voice that she hadn't realized her ears were craving so much. She wanted to see his smile that used to light up rooms, and she wanted to hear him laugh like he always used to. For one heart-stopping moment that was all she could fathom. It was all that she wanted as she stared at Baymax almost stupidly. She just stared. And as she stared, Hiro's own words rang in her ears hollowly.

Just one more…please…please just let me have one more…

Hiro wiped at his eyes, inhaling sharply. "I-I wasn't…" He trailed off, grimacing as his lower lip trembled. He started over, looking from Baymax to Honey Lemon as if he was cornered. He reached across his chest and held his other arm tightly, pulling it to his side as if for some sort of makeshift comfort. When he spoke next, his voice was a low mumble. "I just…Baymax just has…" He paused and closed his eyes tightly, letting out a small huff. His voice was flat next, and he gave up trying to cover himself. He sounded defeated when he growled out: "I just wanted to see him."

"See…Tadashi?" Honey Lemon asked, his name coming out slightly softer and clenched.

Hiro didn't answer at first. He closed his eyes tightly and looked away, more tears dripping down his cheeks. His shoulders shook and he ducked his head down low so that his chin was to his chest. Baymax sidled closer to him as his focus zeroed onto the boy intently. But Hiro didn't even care whatsoever. He hardly even noticed. Tears just continued to make his eyes seem glazed and brighter, and crushing silence layered itself over the room to press down on their shoulders.

Hiro eventually offered a small growl. "This is the best I can do."

Honey Lemon looked up from the floor, her expression crumbling. "What do you mean?" she asked.

Hiro reached up to once again rub at his eyes. When he spoke, his voice betrayed the smallest hint of anger and irritation. It burned underneath the initial layer of sorrow and desperation, like a shark underneath some murky, weighted-down water. "Please don't take this away from me too," he pleaded, glaring tearfully down at the ground, as if every single one of his problems could be blamed on the floor. But they both knew that that was not the case. Not even close. He swallowed hard and struggled to continue. "You've taken away everything else from me. Every other way. Please just let me keep this one. Don't take this from me too."

"We've taken away everything else?" she repeated, her voice hushed and empty. Hiro didn't reply; he just grimaced away from the inquiry. A frown weighed down her face, and she tilted her head to the side. "What— what do you mean?" she dared to ask. Silence met her words. Her chest felt like there was a fifty pound weight pressing down on it. She started to walk away from the door, closer over to Hiro. Though her movements were cautious and slow, as if she wasn't sure on whether or not Hiro would react in anger. But Hiro did not react; he just curled closer to himself, swallowing hard. Concern was prickling underneath her skin at his words, though, so she went on to press further. "Hiro, what do you mean?" she whispered.

He seemed to itch under the smothering. He tensed and gritted his teeth tightly, the effort making his head pound. "Just forget it," he snapped instead. And though Honey Lemon shouldn't have been surprised by the evasion, she was left disappointed in the wake of it. "Never mind." He turned and started over to the bed, as if he was going to go over and throw himself back down into the messy covers. As if he wanted to burrow down in the ground and hide like a mouse.

But he was stopped short. Tadashi's hat was sitting on top of the comforter neatly, and at the sight of it, Hiro became a statue. His eyes fell on the cap, and he seemed to stop breathing altogether. Honey Lemon watched closely, frowning as she turned and weaved closer. She seemed pained at the sight, but she kept quiet. She just watched Hiro lean over, reaching out to take the hat in his hands. It shook slightly, in traces of sorrow and anxiety and too many other things to properly explain.

He stared down at the hat in dismal sorrow. His thumb twitched, stroking across its brim as he took in a choking breath. It seemed to wrack his lungs on the way down in an almost painful manner. He didn't turn back to Honey Lemon; he just kept staring down at the hat like it was a lifeline. Remembering her own frantic thoughts, she spoke quickly, wondering whether or not she could break the sorrow and the remorse before it could consume him any more than it already had. "Is that what you think we did?" she asked, the question hardly audible. "Is that what…you think Aunt Cass did?"

Hiro's shoulders just curled inward even more. His only reply was a hardly-concealed sniff.

She wilted. Her next question was hushed and almost frightened. Some part of her warned her not to let the question blurt past her lips. But she needed to know the answer; maybe, if she got the right reply, she could understand things a little bit more. She could look at Hiro and for once think something other than: 'How can you possibly have done any of this?' Maybe, for once, it would make sense. Something could click. Because, at the moment, she was starting to suspect that it would. "Is that what you think we did?" she repeated, watching him carefully, just like Baymax was. "Do you think we took Tadashi away from you?"

Silence met the question. It could have been ten minutes long, or maybe even ten years, for how much it dragged against the two of them. Honey Lemon struggled to keep herself in check— to prevent herself from pressing further or outright yelling for a reply. She just waited tensely, her hands curled into fists at her sides as she kept her breathing regulated, or at the very least slightly normal.

After a stretch of nothing, Hiro turned around to face her. His eyes were still streaming with tears, and his lips were trembling. He clung tight to the hat, his knuckles white and bleached. When he replied, his voice was a soft mutter that sounded absolutely heartbroken. "It was the _only_ thing that I wanted." The words were an answer in itself, and once they were spoken, they seemed to weigh down the very air between them. Honey Lemon's face fell, and she became lost for words. Rather, she took to just staring at him, her expression unreadable as her mouth remained halfway open.

A long pause continued in this way. Hiro was scowling off to the side, his eyes glinting with regret at what he had let slip on accident. His hands were fisted tightly to grip his brother's hat, his shoulders curled forward as if to shield himself from something. Honey Lemon just groped for something adequate to say in reply, and Baymax was just watching the two of them. He was completely silent, though he wasn't missing a single thing that happened. Honey Lemon wondered dismally why he couldn't just step forward and help her out with this. She felt like she was making a huge mess out of everything.

Eventually, to her combined relief and surprise, Hiro spoke again to break the silence. His voice was still barely above a mumble. Had it been any other situation, Honey Lemon would have tartly demanded that he speak up, because she couldn't possibly hear him. Now, she certainly wasn't about to do that. Not only was it Hiro she was talking to, but the silence that was currently in the room was so bone-crushingly harsh, that she could have probably heard a crumb fall and hit the floor.

"Forget it," Hiro sighed, reaching up and pulling the hat down over his head. He pulled it down so low that the brim hung down over his face, temporarily transforming it from a cap to a protective mask. There was another period of quiet, and he closed his eyes tightly, giving a small shake of the head. It was just once, but it was final enough. "It's not important anymore."

"You shouldn't say that," Honey Lemon objected immediately, before she could stop herself. Hiro stilled, blinking as he turned and looked back at her. His lips were pressed tightly together, and the girl had to wonder whether or not it was because he was trying to keep them from trembling. Baymax edged slightly closer to the pair of them, and so she continued with the smallest sense of reluctance. Her mouth strayed into a frown, and her fingers curled in and out a bit uneasily at her sides. "Y-You shouldn't say that," she repeated, a bit louder. "You shouldn't…_dismiss_…yourself so quickly. Like what you just did. That's not okay."

"Thanks." The way that Hiro sighed the word obliterated all hope of actual and genuine gratitude to reside in his tone. His eyes just flashed, and it was clear that he gained nothing but irritation by the attempt. He turned and sat down on the bed, turning to the side and folding up into a ball. He closed his eyes tightly and tucked his legs up to his chest. He fell still and unmoving; he was like a statue. Baymax turned fully, turning his back on the other person in the room as he focused on him instead. As was his assigned duty.

Honey Lemon's eyes flashed over to sorrow at the sight of the young boy now curled away on the bed. He looked so different from what he used to be. She wondered if Tadashi would even be able to recognize him if he was still here. Somehow, she assumed that he wouldn't be able to. He'd look at this pitiful scrap, with stitches in his arms and tears in his eyes, and he'd just ask incredulously: "Well…yeah, but where's _Hiro_?" The thought was painful enough that she was surprised it did not inflict upon her actual physical pain. She grimaced and looked down at the ground, resorting to gnawing down on her bottom lip. And again, it was a while before she could speak.

"That's not what we were doing, you know." Hiro hardly stirred at her voice, but she could tell that he was listening. Or maybe 'tell' was just an easier word to use than 'hope.' "We didn't stop you from being with Tadashi. We were stopping you from making a mistake we knew you would regret making. We were stopping you from hurting yourself— and everyone around you." She let the words sink in, and God, she hoped that they would. She didn't have much to go off of without being able to see him. So she just went on blindly. "It's what we're still doing. You know that— right? You've got to."

Still, he was getting nothing at all. She sucked in a sharp breath, sighing as she looked back down at the floor. It was too dark in this room. The curtains on the windows were drawn, and the lights were all shut off. She could hardly see more than a few feet in front of her face, really. It couldn't be good for Hiro to be in the dark like this— was it always this dimly-lit in his room? Wasn't that bad for him? People needed sunlight, and fresh air. They needed…well, they just needed _more _than this. But she was running out of things to offer. What else was there? Unless…

She frowned, wilting even more as her sense of hesitance only grew and multiplied. She reached up and tucked a lock of her messy hair behind her ear. She gave a small cough in the back of her throat, trying to clear her voice so that it did not come out thick or congested. Or at the very least, maybe it would be easier for her to sound more confident than she actually was. His words rang in her ears, and her stomach clenched in a sense of pity. "Is that really what you were doing, though?" she asked, her stupid question leaving her mouth before she could contain herself. "Was that…what you were thinking?"

Hiro kept his mouth shut. He just sighed shakily and curled up a bit tighter to himself. Memories – especially from that day in particular – were hard to recall. And even when he did manage to recall them, they were muddled and unfocused. He could only remember snatches of things that fled as soon as they got there. But he could remember one thing very clearly. He could remember the drug-induced haze he had fallen into after choking back those pills. More specifically, he could remember seeing his brother, at the foot of that stage, offering him that broad smile that was heart-shatteringly familiar.

And he could remember the gesture that he had given so clearly. How he had brought his hands up and away from his face, nodding gently as he pressed: _"Breathe…"_

Hiro did not reply. He just kept his teeth locked tightly together. He kept one hand up to hold tight to the brim of Tadashi's hat, as if he was afraid that it would disappear completely if he let go. Honey Lemon was silent for a long moment, as if she realized that he was thinking of something specific, and she was wary to interrupt him. But eventually she couldn't allow herself to let him wallow any further. She knew that she had to do something.

Preferably, this time it would be something that actually helped.

She offered a smile that he knew she would not see. Maybe it was more for her sake than his own, oddly enough. Regardless of its meaning, the wary smile graced her face and riddled it with even more anxiety. She clasped her hands together and took a small step closer, trying not to show too much of her own doubt when she spoke. "But if that's really what you're looking for, Hiro…there's a much better way for you to do just that."

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She wasn't sure what to expect when they got here— it probably wasn't all that smart of an idea to go, really. If she was being truthful with herself, this was more along the lines of what Fred would do via impulse. Usually she could bring herself to be at least a little bit more thoughtful and sensitive than Fred when it came to most things. She was pretty sure that in most cases, a seven-year-old could give him a run for his money in thinking things through. Yet here she was, having driven both Hiro and Baymax down to the cemetery where Tadashi had been buried.

She wasn't sure why she had been drawn to bring Hiro down here, or why she didn't suddenly realize as soon as the suggestion passed her lips that it could be wildly insensitive. But if anything like that had occurred, she had disregarded it. The decision had been in the spur of the moment. What else was she supposed to have done, after Hiro had blurted out such a thing straight to her face? Was she supposed to just let him hold that train of thought and let it rot him from the inside out? Not if she could help it; she would rather do anything besides that.

And 'anything' apparently entailed this.

Hiro had stopped talking once they'd gotten into the car. She hadn't told him explicitly where they were going; she had let her words stop after her vague suggestion of being able to see Tadashi again. After asking if he'd like to see, that was. She told herself it was because of the fact that the wording of the question should have made her desired location blatantly obvious. But truly, it was most likely just because she was too frightened to say it aloud.

After she'd made the suggestion, Hiro had turned and looked over at her. He had been silent for what felt about fifteen years. Honey Lemon had prompted for an answer, and her heart had stilled in her chest with the small 'Okay' that was returned. She had been so shocked at first that she'd hardly known what to do with herself. But they got into motion— into a car, and down the street. She had driven, and every other second, she would turn and glance over at Hiro, who had taken the habit of laying against the passenger side door, his head ducked low and his eyes closed.

He'd known, though. The entire way there. He hadn't been down here ever since the burial, going by what Aunt Cass had said. Despite the fact that Cass herself often made trips down to the grave, Hiro had always refused to go. It was a sad thing to hear back then, but it was even sadder to witness now. She told herself that it was the right thing. That it was better to bring him here now, just the two of them. It would be less intrusive without the others, and after yesterday, when he had actually brought himself to _laugh _and _talk _over his brother…maybe this was just another step in the right direction.

They had parked and gotten out of the car a while ago. Now the three of them were walking, their footsteps sounding muffled and crunched in the snow. Baymax was customarily giving off heat— and it was a good thing, too, because it was freezing outside. Honey Lemon was bundled up in a scarf and a coat, and it was still enough to make her shiver. She had thought of asking Hiro if he was warm enough, but she was cautious on whether or not she was willing to break the tense silence.

Figuring that Baymax would keep tabs on his temperature, she kept quiet. And she continued to keep quiet until they finally reached the destination that they had been making for. Honey Lemon was first to stop, and Hiro did soon after, considering he had no idea where he was going. Honey bit down on the inside of her cheek and stared straight ahead at the grave that was in front of her, her stomach twisting into knots as she frowned a little bit. It was still odd to see— the tombstone that bore her friend's name on it. And the few years that he had been on this earth with them.

But as the thought crossed her mind, she mentally admonished herself. Finding that it was bad enough for her, she turned to look fretfully down at Hiro. Sure enough, the boy had gone completely rigid. His eyes were dark and hollow as he stared at the grave that stretched out in front of them. He did not speak or move or even blink. He just stared, once again adopting that statue-like posture. Honey Lemon wilted and looked back at the grave. Struggling to remind herself why she had brought them here, she cleared her throat and shifted her weight from foot to foot a little bit. "I know that it's not _exactly _what you probably wanted, but—"

"This isn't at all what I wanted," Hiro interrupted, his words surprisingly sharp and freezing.

Honey Lemon stilled, sobering at the snap. She looked down, drawing the toe of her boot along so that it slowly made a line in the snow. Her eyes flickered over to Hiro, and her next words came out in the smallest of mutters. "Then why did you let me bring you here?" she whispered. The question was fair in itself; he couldn't possibly have not realized what she meant when she said what she did. Maybe he just didn't realize what this would mean. Maybe he was just so desperate for anything that had to do with Tadashi, he was willing to even resort to this.

Maybe he was just regretting bringing himself out here. Maybe he was just prepared to take himself back. And Honey Lemon would let him, of course. She wouldn't force him to stay here; that would just be outright cruel. And this was dangerous enough already for Hiro _without_ her doing such a thing. So she didn't press for an answer, for fear of harming him.

She fell into an uncertain quiet, turning with a crestfallen expression back to Tadashi's grave. There was a long period where nobody spoke. Again, there was that choking silence that made her feel as though she was being pressed down into the ground, left to suffocate. Eventually, she sighed underneath her breath. "We can leave," she offered, regret beginning to tinge her voice a darker color. Hiro didn't reply, and so she went on, just as slow and just as reluctant. "We can leave if you want, Hiro," she pushed. "We don't…we don't have to stay here."

Hiro was staring fixedly at the grave, as if he was unable to rip it away. Like he was under some sort of spell. When he did pull his eyes away, they only flickered down to look at the ground that he was standing on. The ground that had been sprinkled over his brother's coffin during the funeral. The coffin that, he realized slowly, was right underneath them. His expression was hollow and vacant, but Honey Lemon was not comforted. Was empty better than sorrowful and grieving? Or was it ten times worse?

He replied, but it was not in respect to her question. His voice was a mumble that barely rasped against his throat. His hands were shoved down deep into his pockets, and Tadashi's hat had been pulled down low over his face. "I've never come back here," he admitted, still studying the snow that was nearly up to his ankles. His eyes flashed over with something akin to pain. "Ever since the…the funeral, I just…haven't…" He trailed off, his forehead creasing deeply. He didn't finish the thought. He probably couldn't bring himself to.

She immediately tried to comfort him, a stab of pity lashing through her heart. "You shouldn't blame yourself," she tried weakly, turning once more to look at him. He didn't react to her reassurance, but she pushed on anyway. "I know it's hard. It's a hard thing to see; and you can admit that." Hiro's lower lip just trembled a little bit, and his face began to crowd over with wretched sorrow. "But…you know, just because you do something in the past…well, that doesn't mean you can't fix it in the future, right?"

He glanced over at her, and she realized that his eyes were watery and tearful. She felt a sense of guilt at the fact that she had brought this upon him, and she looked over at Baymax to see whether or not the robot was about to blame her as well. But he was silent, and he didn't even look over at her. She turned back and clasped her hands behind her tightly, gnawing down in the attempt to try and focus on something else. But there wasn't much else to focus on. Not with the ear-shattering silence that hung around the entire cemetery.

Hiro moved, and Honey Lemon's attention was wrenched at once. But he just turned and settled down, lowering himself to sit down on the snow. He drew his knees up close to him like he always did, and he locked his arms around his ankles to hold himself there. His expression was strained as he stared over at the grave in front of him. He didn't say anything. Honey Lemon coughed again, grimacing as she reluctantly followed his lead. She settled herself on the ground, her hands resting in her lap as she looked down to study that instead.

Before too long, and the quiet was too much to bear. She forced a smile on her face and an upbeat tone in her voice as she brought herself to speak again. "I come here a lot," she confessed. Hiro might have looked over at her quickly; she wasn't sure. Deciding that it was better not to make it _too _obvious that she was worried for his sake, she took more initiative to continue. "I come here when I feel stressed, or worried, or sad," she admitted with a sigh. "I just…like to sit here and think. And sometimes I talk. It's really…it's really very comforting. At least to me." She paused for a while, thinking. Then she shifted and heaved yet another small sigh. "I come here and rant sometimes about annoying people in the lab back at school. Or I tell him something funny that Fred said the day before. I keep him…you know, I keep him up to date."

Hiro turned and looked at her, a sense of skepticism in his eyes. His shoulders were drooped now, though she wasn't too sure that was an improvement. He looked from her to his brother's grave, the doubt refusing to leave from his eyes. "Why?" he asked, Honey Lemon already prepared for the question that she figured there was no avoiding. Hiro seemed thoroughly unimpressed with her admission, and though it stung a little bit, she knew that it probably stung him more, in its own way. "It doesn't matter," Hiro mumbled, his words muffled against his knees. "Why bother?"

"Why bother to do anything?" Honey Lemon countered, though the effort was a little fragile. She turned back to look at Tadashi's resting place, wilting just a little bit more. What would Tadashi say if he _could _talk back, right now? He would be shell-shocked and horrified at the sight of his brother. And, against herself, Honey Lemon felt the weight of blame and guilt level itself on top of her in the form of a new kind of burden. It wasn't that this was her fault— none of the friends that made up their closely-knit group had taken Hiro and whittled him down to this husk of his former self.

But it was up to all of them to help rebuild him back into what he had been before. So far, whatever progress they ever made came in small, staggering steps, that didn't seem to get that far. They were to blame this point on, really. "It makes me feel better, sometimes. To be able to talk to him." She offered him an imploring look. "You never know, either— it could help you, too." Hiro hunched a little bit, an uncomfortable expression crawling over his face. Anxious not to do that very thing, Honey Lemon tried to fix herself. "You've never tried before, is just what I'm saying I mean," she rushed. "You don't have to— if you don't want to. I just…I'm just saying it helps me along. On bad days, especially. I can just come here and…know that he'll listen to me. And about what's been going on."

Hiro didn't move at first. He kept curled up and away from her. His eyes were slightly narrowed— whether it was in thought, or whether it was in anger, she couldn't be sure. Her confusion was not lifted whatsoever, either, when he spoke. His voice was just as ambiguous, and shone no lights on the question. "How could you possibly find any satisfaction in talking to someone like this, when you just know that you're not able to talk to them normally? The way that you really _want _to?" Hiro demanded a little harshly. He shook his head quickly, back and forth. A thoughtless movement, considering he still looked a little worse for wear. "It's _stupid_." The words were flat.

Honey Lemon just sighed. She looked off to the side for a while, awkwardness and frustration alike burning underneath her skin. It was about three full minutes of silence before she tried a different tactic. Again, she was struggling to keep her voice bright and cheery. It was a strain, considering where they were, but she was persistent. "Did I ever tell you how I met Tadashi?" she asked, recalling how Hiro had reacted last time they had had a conversation that involved his brother. She was reluctant a bit— just because she didn't want to make him crave and thirst just for more of his brother. But at this point, if it was what would help, she wasn't about to shun it away. Maybe in moderation, it would be just the thing for him.

Hiro roused, predictably. He looked from the gravesite to her, an uneasy frown on his face.

She took his silence as a suitable enough form of affirmation. She took in a quick breath, grinning a little bit more genuinely now as she looked back down into her lap. "It was when college was just starting," she said, her voice already warmer. "The faculty had put together this dance to welcome the new freshman, and even though I went, I had no idea who anyone else was." She gave a small laugh. "So I was all dressed up fancy, and I was so ready to dance and have fun, when I got there and realized that I was completely alone. Everyone else already had these…cliques, you know? Some people already knew each other, and stuff like that. So I was left all alone.

"I ended up standing in the corner for a good half hour, just minding my own business when everyone else was having fun. I was on my phone, you know— scrolling through social sites to make it seem like I was doing something important. Or…at the very least, I wanted to make it seem like I wasn't some loser on her own like I really was." She meant for Hiro to laugh with that last part, but Hiro was just as unresponsive. He simply stared her, not budging. So she just nodded once and went on. "Usually for me, talking and laughing with someone comes across as really easy. Most of the time, I can never shut up. But for that night at least, when I was leaving my old life behind to step into a completely new one, I was a little bit shier than normal. And I figured that at least I could listen to good music for a while, and maybe get a feel of the campus later on, and that would be that night. Which wasn't all that bad, really."

Her expression grew softer and fonder, and her voice grew even more so. She tilted her head to the side a little bit, her lips curling up into a smile. "But then Wasabi came up to me and started talking to me— he asked me what my major was, and if I was staying on campus, and stuff like that. He mentioned that he was waiting for a friend to get here, and he was running late. And sure enough, about five minutes later, Tadashi comes running into the room. He looked completely frazzled and like he'd just ran the entire way here."

She tuned, flashing Hiro a look that glinted with amusement. "He rushed up to Wasabi, and he immediately started ranting to him, without even looking over at me. He was saying some nonsense about his little brother nearly breaking his arm in half with some kind of rocket cart experiment." Hiro stiffened, sitting up a little straighter as his eyes flashed with something, thankfully, more than remorse and depression. It was a light, instead, of recognition. A light that carried with it a sense of the life that he had had before. She was encouraged by this— more so than with anything else so far.

"Wasabi just laughed, but I was pretty shocked, because that's not normally an excuse that just anyone would have for being late." She giggled. "Then Tadashi noticed me, and he was totally surprised and started apologizing for interrupting. I think he thought that Wasabi was trying to make a move on me or something." Her nose wrinkled a little bit, expressing properly the disdain she felt in respect to the idea. "Tadashi finally got caught up to speed, and we spent the rest of the night just talking— at first it was the three of us, but then someone else dragged Wasabi away for a while, so then it was just us two."

She reached up to mess with her hair, a nervous tic that she had had for as long as she remembered. "He was really just the sweetest person I've ever met, I think. He was really nice and funny, and I immediately liked him from the start. And I think he liked me too, otherwise we wouldn't have gone on to be friends as long as we did." Her voice was oozing over with affection for her lost friend. Not sorrow— not right now. There was just affection. And Hiro's forehead creased over in slight confusion at the realization. "He spent the rest of the night with me, which I was thankful for, because I didn't know anyone else. I remember a lot of it, but the biggest thing I remember was that he was just very nice and goofy, and I laughed a lot."

She reached up to rub her mouth, and when she continued, her voice did begin to adopt a little bit of its sorrow. It got a littler heavier, and less perky. She sniffed and shrugged happily. "He and Wasabi were both so nice, but I considered Tadashi to be the first actual friend that I made at school. It made me much happier for all that was to come, and I was right." Her voice broke a little, though the smile stayed on her face, albeit wavering. "Being at school with them was just something that was so great— I loved every single moment of it. Tadashi introduced me to the rest of the group bit by bit as it grew, and they were just the best people I've ever come into contact with.

"We were always together all the time. Birthdays, holidays, days off from school— we'd always have something to do, and we'd always make the most of it by talking and laughing and having fun. They were my new family, and I owe a lot to them. I owe a lot to Tadashi, for introducing me. It's a debt that I can't…I can't really ever _repay_. Even if he was here, you know?"

Hiro blinked. He turned and looked back at the grave. His eyes were clouding over, and his voice was soft when he replied: "Yeah…"

She rubbed at her eyes quickly, realizing with a jolt that they were watering and tearing up. She hadn't even noticed before now. A twinge of embarrassment went through her, but she ignored it as best she could. "Sorry," she laughed, shaking her head before perking once more. "I just…I just really like to tell that story. It marks the best thing that's ever happened to me, after all." She rubbed at her eyes again. "Tadashi was just…he was…"

Words failed her, then. They fell short, and she just took to silence again. A tear ran down her face as her expression turned a little bit more deflated, but this time she didn't wipe it away. Hiro stared over at her, his eyebrows arched and his expression slowly becoming stricken. He looked between her and the slab that now marked where his brother was resting. Would be resting forever, now. This was all that was here; Hiro would never be able to hug his brother again, or talk with him, or be with him. All he had left was a stone.

It was all…well, it was all _anyone _had left.

Seeing Honey Lemon's reaction, he drew himself forward and shifted a little bit. "You…really cared about him." The words were lame, and they fell separately— too awkward to flow together normally. He pictured each individual word falling like a brick and burying itself away in the snow.

But Honey Lemon didn't react, if she could sense the same kind of awkwardness. She just turned, looking even grateful at what Hiro had said. She smiled widely, flushing over with the same amount of affection she had had when she was talking about Tadashi. The fact struck Hiro abruptly, like a slap in the face. "I did," she gushed, nodding quickly. "He was…he was my best friend." Her lower lip trembled at the title, and it was only about ten seconds before she caved and shrugged a little aimlessly. "I cared about him," she sighed, her voice wilting as it began to lose air quickly. "I cared about him a lot. I cared about him every single day. And…and now, every single day, I _miss_ him."

Hiro's eyes narrowed slightly. "You don't seem like it," he objected. Honey Lemon, startled by the objection, perked and looked at him in surprise. Bitter, Hiro just looked away. "You and Aunt Cass both say that. But you can't actually mean it." He reached up and pressed the heels of his hands down into his eyes. "Aunt Cass said that she missed him, but then she said that she wanted to throw out all of his things. And you say that you miss him, but you and everyone else are just worried about Christmas and how we're going to celebrate it." His eyes flickered with irritation. "You can't play both sides. You either miss him, or you _don't._"

Honey Lemon grimaced. "That's not what it is, Hiro," she objected. The boy glanced sharply over at her, but she was adamant on sweeping forward. "You do grieve, yes. But there's an ending point to it. You can't spend the rest of your life being angry and sad that he doesn't have his anymore. You've got to move on from grief and live your life instead the way that he would want you to." She cocked her head to the left, trying to get a better look at him. "Tadashi wouldn't want us to be sad all the time just because he's gone," she pressed. "He would want you to go on and be exactly the way he pictured you being. Smart and clever and successful and innovative." Hiro weakened substantially, like a balloon whose air was rushing out. "He told us all the time how great you were going to be, Hiro," Honey Lemon said, smiling tenderly. "He was your biggest fan, I think."

Hiro stared ahead again. His hand strayed up to his brother's hat again.

That quiet was back again, only this time, something seemed more final about it.

Minutes stretched on that felt like years. Honey Lemon tried to figure out something else she could say to break this— something that would help make both of them feel better. But she couldn't draft anything out from the back of her mind. So after quite some time, she turned and elbowed Hiro, the boy reacting as if he was roused from a dream. "Hey, do you wanna go out and get some ice cream?" she volunteered, hoping to steer his mind away just a little bit. "I know this really good place that I think you'd like. You can put whatever toppings you want on top. And it's got this whole bar to choose from. The possibilities are endless." She perked with this last interjection, still trying to push for that laughter from Hiro she had heard just yesterday.

But for all Hiro reacted, she could have said nothing at all. He was still that same statue. Icy and unmoving. It was like he was completely lifeless. She frowned, that same sense of guilt clenching around her throat. "You want to leave?" she asked, softer this time. Hiro nodded once, and she repeated the action herself. She turned and pushed herself up to her feet, dusting the snow off of herself in the process. "Then we can go!" she reassured him, not about to make him do anything more that caused him stress. She cleared her throat and wiped at her eyes for the last time, recovering fully once more. "And we don't even have to go for ice cream if you don't want. I just thought it might be fun."

He still didn't move. He just stared at the grave.

She hesitated, feeling a little bit confused. "Hiro?" she asked. Baymax had sidled closer to the boy, and a sense of concern began to foster itself inside of her. "Hiro, are you alright?" He still didn't respond, and after a moment of looking in between him and Tadashi's tombstone, her hopeful mind began to leap to its own conclusions. "Hiro?" she repeated. When she still got absolutely nothing, she asked with a heaping amount of reluctance: "Do you…do you want some time alone?"

The question went unanswered for a few heartbeats. Hiro turned away a little bit, shifting only to hold to himself even tighter. He closed his eyes with a grimace, swallowing a thick lump in his throat. "Um…" He paused for a long time, feeling each second like a punch to the gut. Eventually he did force out a reply, even if it was one that was slightly underwhelming. "Yeah." The reply was barely anything, but it was all he could get, nonetheless. He didn't offer to fine-tune it; however small it was, it was clear enough.

"Okay," Honey Lemon said immediately, not wasting a single moment. She turned to look imploringly at Baymax, who gave her a small nod in turn. Then she smiled and gave a nod. "I'll leave you alone, then. I'll head back to the car; you can just meet me there when you're ready. Alright?" She was almost sure that Hiro would just ignore her. But surprisingly, he offered another nod to show that he had heard. Honey Lemon opened her mouth to say something more, but she backed out on it at the last second. There was nothing more she could say, without being irritating.

So she turned and just left. Hiro listened to her crunching footsteps get quieter and quieter until there wasn't any noise left to listen to at all. He and Baymax were left alone, and the only sound was the wind that rattled the bare trees that were around the entire clearing. That, and Hiro's rasping breaths. He didn't do anything for a long stretch; Hiro just looked at the gravestone in front of him, until the words that were engraved into the rock were just as engraved inside of his mind. They burned themselves in his eyes, and his heart felt like it was being twisted and contorted painfully.

He ducked his head and swallowed hard a second time. He let out a shivering breath of air and shook his head, trying to gain a better control over himself. Yet his voice still came out chipped and broken in places when he brought himself to speak. "I don't…" He let out a sharp huff of air, reaching up again to hold tight to the hat. He looked back forward. Back at his brother. He was strained and sorrowful. There was so much remorse in his gaze, that it probably could have filled an entire ocean. He looked back at Baymax, looking lost. "I don't know what I'm supposed to say," he croaked eventually.

Baymax blinked slowly. He tilted his head to the side. "I do not believe that there is a specific thing to say," he replied. "I believe that all you have to do is say what is on your mind. People often find speaking freely to their lost loved ones very calming. It allows them a sense of peace to know that they are listening." There was a small gap before: "You should say what is on your mind, Hiro. Opening up can only improve your mental state of mind at the moment."

Hiro blinked. He turned back front, his eyes wide and miserable. He hesitated for what felt like an age. His voice wavering on itself, he took in a sharp breath of air before he spoke up. "I'm…" He grimaced, biting down on his lower lip and cursing himself mentally as he leaned back a little bit. He sniffed and passed a full minute in silence. Only then did he try any further. "I'm…scared," he confessed after this, his voice nothing more than a small whimper. It was hardly audible, though Baymax was watching him intently. "I'm scared of…everything I'm…supposed to do now," he said, each word slow and spaced out. He sounded awkward and confused.

But mostly, he just sounded terrified.

Baymax continued to keep track of him. His heartrate was rising, as well as his blood pressure. If it got too high, the robot would have to act. Though speaking aloud to who had passed often helped people who were stuck in the grieving process like Hiro was, if it was detrimental rather than helpful, it would have to be put to an end. Despite anything, Hiro's mental health was the number one priority. But even as he tracked his rising heartrate, Baymax did not interrupt him or break concentration. Not yet, anyway. He had to at least leave room for a chance.

Hiro wasn't paying mind to the robot's attention, though. All of his attention was fixated on the tombstone in front of him. His hands would have been shaking had he not been clasping them tightly together. He looked down at the ground. His mind seemed to be racing, but at the same time, his words came across so slow and dragged. Between the two conflicts, he wasn't sure what to do. He just closed his eyes tightly and struggled on. "I'm scared that…you don't love me anymore," he whispered, his words broken into pieces as they rolled off his tongue.

He felt tears well up in his eyes. He bit down on his lower lip and sniffed, struggling to keep control over himself. But it was getting harder and harder to do so. He took in another gasp and shook his head. "I'm scared that…Aunt Cass doesn't either," he continued. He took off his hat and drew his fingers through his hair, heaving a shaking sigh. "She said she did, but…" By now his voice was getting thicker and weaker— it was harder to understand and make out. His expression crumbled, and his lips trembled. "But I don't know what to think anymore," he squeaked, the harrowing feeling stabbing through his stomach. "I don't know…I don't know, and you _would_. I wish you could…tell me what to do," he cried, tears warming his chilled cheeks now. "I know I never— I know I never listened when you were here, but…" He buried away his face, as if trying to hide it. "But…I would now…" He sounded entirely pathetic.

It was about two more minutes before he could continue. His breathing was erratic now, and Baymax was nearing the point where he would decide to stop the encounter. Where he would lean down and usher Hiro up to his feet and herd him back to where Honey Lemon was. By this point, Hiro was holding his midsection, hugging himself to make sure that he would not collapse and fall apart. He was looking back forward, his eyes drilling through the stone as if to demand answer now.

"Do you still love me?" Hiro asked, the question strangled and weak.

He waited in a tense posture, his eyes hollow and dead.

But, of course, there was no reply.

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Hiro stared dully down at his ice cream, just taking to poking at it blandly. He just got some scoop of vanilla— though Gummy Bears had been offered on the toppings bar, he had walked right by it. Honey Lemon had gone all out, though. She'd gotten a scoop of Oreo, a scoop of Birthday Cake, a scoop of Brownie and about a million sprinkles and Gummy Worms. The two had gotten in and made their treats and then went back in the car, just in case Aunt Cass was to come in for some reason. When Honey Lemon had said this aloud, she had expected some reaction from Hiro. But he had offered none.

In fact, this whole time he wasn't giving any. Hiro was just sitting quietly in the passenger seat, prodding at his ice cream. He didn't offer conversation, and Honey Lemon wasn't about to push for any. They just sat in the silence of the car, the radio playing some random song in the background. Honey Lemon tried to concentrate on the lyrics, just because it was easier to listen to a song than the tension between them. But she couldn't even bring herself to get too far into that.

Baymax was crammed in the backseat. He was surveying Hiro closely, like the child was underneath a microscope. It was clear that he was doubtful of Hiro partaking in ice cream. It was not nutritious, and it would not help his stomach very much. However, going by the way he was just stabbing at the scoop, Baymax realized that he wasn't about to really dig into it anyway. A few bites would not hurt, but eating the entire thing would do more harm than it would do good. Despite popular belief, ice cream was not a 'feel good' food. It actually did not help in things such as nausea and sickness.

The quiet was broken pretty soon, and it was broken by Hiro. When he spoke up, Honey Lemon nearly ended up choking on a mouthful of ice cream. "Can we go to the store?" he asked, his voice that same little grumble.

Honey turned, her eyes slightly wide. "The store?" she asked, sounding floored. "Why— what do you need from the store?"

He kept looking down at his food. He was messing with it so much that, by this point, it was more soup than it was ice cream. He shrugged listlessly, sagging back in the seat with a barely held-in sigh. "I just—" He looked almost irritable, and Honey Lemon wondered wildly what she had done wrong. But she soon realized it wasn't irritable so much as it was just awkward. "If we're going to do Christmas tomorrow, I want to get something to give people," he sighed, Honey Lemon stilling at the explanation. He refused to turn and meet her gaze, though.

The smallest hint of a smile was tugging at her mouth, though she kept it as much under wraps as she could possibly manage. "You…you want to go shopping for Christmas?" she asked, just to make sure that what she was assuming was correct. "You want me to take you Christmas shopping?"

Hiro's irritability was not helped with the clarification, though. He soured just a little bit, looking down at the ground. "Well, I mean, if we're really going to do it," he sighed. "I don't want it to be even more painful than it'll already be." He hesitated and finally turned, looking over at Honey Lemon. The girl sobered at the expression that was on his face. He looked just the slightest bit pained, and just the slightest bit confused. He looked cautious and on-edge. He looked scared. Again, her own words flashed through her mind. 'What are you afraid of?'

She softened, and she offered him a gentle smile. "Of course," she agreed. "If that's what you'd like, we can certainly go shopping." They would have to be careful, of course, just in case. But Aunt Cass would be at the Lucky Cat Café all day working today. And she didn't really have any closely-knit friends who would point Hiro out that they knew of. In and out, she promised herself. Because she wasn't about to shoot Hiro down when he was moving to take such a risk as this. She hadn't even asked him to do anything _close _to this. "We can go right now," she went on. "If that's really what you want to do."

Hiro's eyes flashed. But he gave a small nod. "Yeah," he mumbled, looking back down into his ice cream. "That's what I want to do."

Honey Lemon blinked. Her smile was growing further on her face, and she momentarily forgot about her ice cream, just turning to push the bowl down into one of the empty cup holders. "Alright," she said, her eyes lighting up as she turned and put the car into drive, pulling out of the shop's parking lot. She turned and pulled out into the street, feeling a sense of growing excitement. "It'll be great," she promised. "We'll find a bunch of stuff. And everyone else will be so surprised! Don't you worry!"

Hiro didn't reply. He just offered her an empty smile that only held a trace of true happiness.

It was enough, though— she wasn't about to be disappointed. Not when he had taken what, to her, were such huge steps today. First, he had stayed at Tadashi's grave, and had even wanted to hang back when she offered a way out of the harrowing situation. And now, however reluctantly, he was offering that they go out and shop to make sure that Christmas went as— well, as normally as it usually did. As regular, and as traditional. It showed…it showed that he cared, right? Or that he was at least he was trying to bring himself to.

It was _at least_ two steps in the right direction, right?

Honey Lemon glanced over at Hiro. He was staring out the window, abandoning his ice cream as his tired eyes tracked the landscape that flashed by the window. His face seemed crowded in thought and wistful all at the same time. His chin rested on the palm of his hand, and he leaned against the door as a prop. Baymax had leaned over now, putting his head on the shoulder of the seat as he continued to watch Hiro. Aware of this, Hiro turned and glanced over at him. Honey Lemon expected him to lash out or snap at the robot to back off, but Hiro just shook his head, as if Baymax was nothing but a nuisance.

Hiro just rolled his eyes and turned to look back out the window, his expression not changing whatsoever.

Honey Lemon again could not hold back a smile.

Maybe – just maybe – this whole thing wasn't as hopeless as she thought it was.


	23. Chapter 23

A/N: I apologize for the lack of updates, I really do. But even when school is out, I have a summer job to work, along with these stories to handle, and I just have to prioritize them as best as I possibly can. I hope you all understand, and I made sure that this chapter was on the long side to try and help with the wait.

As always, if there are any issues I could fix, I would love to do so. It's eleven at night, and I have to get up at six for work tomorrow, so if there are any typos, and you point them out kindly, I would love to fix those as soon as possible!

Thank you for your patience with this story! It means a lot if you're still reading.

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The store was crowded. It was noisy, and it was cramped, and it was _annoying_. Everyone was rushing around like they were ten seconds from death, and the only thing that could save them was the frozen pack of wild Buffalo wings they had ripped out of the freezer ten seconds ago. It resembled a bustling highway more than it did a store, and it was kind of hard to forget that it was the eve of a holiday. Even if it was just New Year's, it might as well have been the very last Christmas on planet Earth, by the pure looks of it.

Hiro reached back and tugged his hood back over his head as he eyed the mess around them warily. Honey Lemon didn't seem too bothered by it; she was on his right, her eyes bright and wide as she looked over a shirt that was hanging up the wall. It was a bright blue t-shirt that had one of those cliché little kittens hanging off of a branch. In big, bold letters it encouraged whoever was wearing it to 'Hang in There!' Seeing Hiro's glance in her direction and taking it for something else entirely, Honey Lemon jumped up and brightened, folding her hands together. "Do you like this shirt, Hiro? You should get it! I think blue is _definitely _your color!"

Hiro's eyebrows knitted together. He looked over the shirt with something akin to contempt before he quickly turned away. "No thanks," he sighed. He didn't catch Honey Lemon's disappointed wilt; instead, he turned his attention back to the hurrying people who were trying desperately to finish off the last few things they needed for whatever party they were throwing tomorrow night. "This is insane," he said, stuffing his hands away into the front pocket of his hoodie. "If I had known this mess was here, I wouldn't have suggested coming."

Honey Lemon quickly moved to reassure him. She couldn't have him regretting coming out! Not when getting to this point was so important! "Well, we're here now, aren't we?" she asked. Hiro didn't reply or look at her, but he didn't object either, and she was willing to classify that underneath a sense of triumph. She clapped her hands together and gave a little hop. Already, she was working her bright smile back on her face. "Let's think, here! Maybe Wasabi would like a cookbook, do you think? Or maybe some kind of food kit. Do you think Gogo would like…hmm…roller skates? To go with her bike?"

"'Roller skates?'" he repeated, his nose scrunching up a little bit. This was enough to make him look back over his shoulder. By now, her smile had turned a little sheepish. "Isn't that…a little kid kind of thing?" he asked. Before she could reply, he turned back around, reaching out to pointlessly bother with one of the shirts that was hanging around them. "I wouldn't think someone that's in college would want roller skates. It seems…childish." His forehead creased awkwardly. "Or…something."

Honey Lemon forced out a bubbling laugh. "Are you kidding?" she asked. At first, Hiro thought that he could hear anger in her voice. But look back at her, she was entirely unfazed. In fact, the thing he had actually detected in her tone was something akin to laughter. She reached over and before he could step to the side and avoid it, she grabbed his shoulder and gave a small shove. It was only hard enough to throw him off balance, though. "It's not childish! It's _fun_! There's a _difference_."

Hiro was still skeptical, but he figured that it was good enough. He didn't really _know _this group of people. Not enough to pluck out 'perfect' gift ideas all by himself. Sure, he had hung out with all of them quite a lot before the Showcase, but he had only done that because they had just come along with— "Let's go then," he said bluntly. Honey Lemon jumped a little bit at the forceful way he had suddenly spoken. "We'll start with roller skates. If that's what she wants."

Honey Lemon smiled, finding a little bit of reassurance in the compliance. However, her grin quickly faded into a look of confusion as she turned to look around in bemusement. "Where's Baymax?" she asked, just now realizing the robot was nowhere to be seen. They had walked in with him, she was positive of that. She had endured the strange looks that had been thrown their way to prove it. Usually Baymax refused to wander even an inch away from Hiro. Where had he gone now?

Hiro roused, his own expression sharpening with a bit of surprise. Honey Lemon frowned, wondering whether or not something strange had happened— maybe someone in the store had collapsed out of exhaustion or something, and he had instantly gravitated towards them? It wasn't her robot; she hadn't made him herself, so she wasn't sure what his parameters were. Though, that being said, the group _had _made it clear to him before all of this started that his first priority should _always _be Hiro.

Honey Lemon was jerked out of her confusion without warning. "Baymax?" The shout jarred her to the present, and it was a good thing that it did. Not a moment after she perked, Hiro abruptly turned and rushed to the side, nearly plowing right into her. If she hadn't stepped backwards, she probably would have been knocked straight through, and onto her back. Her eyes flew a little wide, and she turned quickly to look after him. Hiro was glancing every which way; his forehead was creased over with confusion as he turned, and it took Honey Lemon a second for her realization to dawn.

He raised his voice again, into more of a yell this time. "Baymax!?" There was no reply to his calls, and Honey Lemon had to quickly shake off her shock before she could will herself to move forward. She couldn't let him get worried or panicked, could she? She started to reach out and touch his shoulder, maybe to pull him aside or try and comfort him— she wasn't really all that sure herself. But before she could have the chance to pick anything out of random, Hiro turned back to look at her.

His eyes were slightly wider than they normally were. There was a certain degree of expectation as he stared at her, and she quickly took her arms back to her sides, hoping he hadn't noticed her move in the first place. "He can't have wandered away, right?" he demanded. Honey Lemon just stared at him blankly, her mouth hanging halfway open, but no words managing to come out. "That's not something he does?" Honey Lemon was still mute; she was just as confused as him. But when she didn't reply immediately with reassurance, Hiro's puzzlement changed quickly into frustration.

Frustration and something akin to worry.

He shifted and turned, looking to the left and then to the right. His eyes narrowed a little bit, and he subconsciously began to rub at his arms. Honey Lemon quickly moved to try and stop him— didn't that hurt _a lot_? But he wasn't even paying attention to her, and just repeated himself. "_Baymax_!?" A frustrated noise quickly huffed through his lips before: "Where did he go!? He was right here just a few seconds ago!"

"I'm not sure." Finally she got herself to get back into the swing of things. "I-I don't know," she confessed weakly. Though even once she shook off the remaining shreds of confusion, she still couldn't take her eyes off of him. The way that he was pacing in short strides, turning in tightly-knit circles. When they were in the car on the way here, she had seen him brush Baymax off at least twice. Now, confronted with the idea of the robot being _gone,_ Honey Lemon would have thought that he would be ecstatic. But he looked sincerely worried. Almost…frightened by the thought of it. "He's got to be around here somewhere," she went on gently.

Hiro fell silent, the disgruntled expression staying stuck on his face. He turned his back to her and looked down the aisle of the clothing, his shoulders gradually beginning to slouch. Honey Lemon bit down hard on her lower lip and turned as well— to the other side, so she could help search. She was two heartbeats away from pulling out her phone and calling Fred and Gogo. Come to think of it, the pair could even be at this very store; she wasn't sure _where _they had gone, she just knew what was on their list. Maybe they could band together to search for the suddenly-AWOL robot?

But as soon as she resolved to pull out her mobile device, a wave of strong relief crashed right into her. From down a few aisles, there was Baymax. He was coming back bit by bit in that signature shuffling fashion of his. Despite the apparent worry that had been on both Honey Lemon's face, and Hiro's face, Baymax did not rush back. Or maybe it was more of the fact that he could not, rather than it was his own choice. Regardless of the fact, Honey Lemon's face broke out into a wide smile. "There he is!" she called.

And immediately, Hiro twisted back around to follow her stare. His shoulders went rigid now at the call, and his eyes drilled over to Baymax without a second's contemplation. Ironically enough, Baymax's attention was also reserved only for him. He veered for the younger boy, who watched with a locked jaw as he came nearer. Neither of them said anything; they just waited. Honey Lemon was silent more out of awkwardness; she glanced in between the two of them, too put-off by Hiro's sharp reaction to do much anything else.

Finally, Baymax came to a stop. He was holding something snugly in his hands. Two things, actually. They looked like tiny picture frames at first glance. But the thought was quickly dismissed once Baymax spoke. "I noticed these on the way in," he announced smoothly. "I hope you do not mind I went back to retrieve them."

Hiro glanced down at the load, but he didn't make a move towards it whatsoever. He just looked back up at Baymax and demanded: "Why did you go off by yourself?" He didn't even pause for the opportunity of an answer before he went on. "We had _no idea _where you went, we thought you were gone!" He reached up, tugging Tadashi's hat down a little bit tighter over his head. His eyes were quickly narrowing back down again, and the growing sharpness in his voice was hard to miss. "You could have gone missing, for all we knew!"

Baymax blinked once at the question, tilting his head to the side. "I did not go missing," he replied innocently. Yet when he registered Hiro's growing anxiety, he backtracked to correct himself. "However, I apologize if I have caused you any unnecessary worry with my absence. I will make sure that it will not happen again. But I wanted to bring you these, in the hopes that they would help you. In the research I had done before, I gathered that these very things could often help to lift the spirits of another. I wanted to see whether or not these could lift yours as well."

Hiro looked down at the things that Baymax was carrying, yet his facial expression didn't change whatsoever. His eyes were still slightly narrowed, and his jaw remained slightly locked back. He still looked a shade angry, or at the very least, cross. Baymax ignored this detail for the most part and just shifted so that he was holding a frame-like thing in each hand.

But it wasn't a frame. Honey Lemon realized that she had seen these types of things before— everyone had. And her eyes softened in a saddened way as she looked at the two items that Baymax had hand-selected. They were those plaques that were painted in soft, kind colors. The kinds of plaques that you could hang up on your wall that would always have those cheesy quotes on them to help brighten up your day.

The first one was a light shade of blue, with small swirls of white clouds here and there. And written across it was the message: 'Happiness is not the absence of problems, it's the ability to deal with them.' The other one was a light green and pink, and it claimed: 'Use your smile to change the world. Don't let the world change your smile.' They were both clearly well-intended, and Honey Lemon felt a certain level of tightness in her chest at the idea that Baymax had seen these as important enough to step away from Hiro in order to fetch. The robot was looking at Hiro intently, not even blinking.

She looked back at Hiro next, waiting for some kind of reaction. And for a long while, there was absolutely none. Hiro just stared dully at the plaques, his lips pressed tightly together. The only thing that changed about him was the fact that he stopped scowling or shooting daggers over at Baymax. Instead, his eyes rounded out into more of a weakened stare. His face fell a little bit as he read the messages, and his whole posture slouched, making him lose about two inches of height. Honey Lemon was silent; she just crossed her arms uncomfortably across her chest as she waited for either of them to speak.

But Baymax was mute; he just waited for Hiro to react.

When the boy finally did, it was only to let out a gusty sigh. He closed his eyes briefly and coughed to clear his throat. Reaching up again, he pulled Tadashi's hat down even further on his head. He ducked away from the two plaques in front of him, down to the floor instead. He bit down on his lower lip, and seemed to think in silence for a few moments. Baymax obviously began to pick up on this change in behavior. He blinked once and asked softly: "Do you not like them, Hiro?" When there was no answer, he went on anyway. "I thought that seeing these might change your viewpoint on matters."

Hiro stayed ducked away a few more moments that seemed like lifetimes. Honey Lemon was beginning to feel not only the sting of disappointment that Baymax's efforts were apparently going wasted, but also the burn of embarrassment at the awkwardness of it all. When Hiro did look back up, his expression was reserved and stiff. But his voice was even more so. "Don't wander off like that again," he said flatly. Honey Lemon grimaced, wringing her hands together in front of her. "Do you hear me?" Hiro snapped, watching with a cold stare at Baymax straightened up a little bit more. "Don't run off. I was ten seconds away from running around this entire store to try and find you."

Baymax seemed confused. But then again, so was Honey Lemon, as she looked quizzically from the boy to the robot. "I am sorry, Hiro," he said. "I did not realize that my absence would upset you so much. If I knew, I would not have stepped away at all." He blinked once, taking a small step closer. "My intention would never be to make you upset, Hiro; that is the last thing I would want to accomplish. My strict orders are to make sure you are mentally well."

Hiro's expression darkened slightly. "I'm not upset," he replied tartly. Baymax blinked again, but kept silent. He didn't even try to speak up and ask for any additional clarification. Which was a good thing, because in this situation, it wasn't clear on whether or not Hiro would even be able to answer anything clearly. "I just…I just don't want to wander around here if I can help it, you know?" He stopped only to give out a small exhale of frustration. "You just need to stay here, okay? Don't go off on your own!"

Honey Lemon's eyebrows knitted together in puzzlement.

Judging by the silence that ensued, Baymax seemed confused as well. But he quickly got over it. Instead he just gave a small nod. "I see," he replied. "Please forgive me then, for not staying with the group. I will be much smarter next time." He lowered the plaques, Honey Lemon wilting a little bit at the easy defeat. She thought that the gesture was more than thoughtful. And who knew? It might have helped just a little bit. But she guessed that the effort was pretty much wasted.

Baymax didn't seem all that put-off, though. He just looked at Hiro expectantly. "Would you like to accompany me to put these back, then?" he asked. "That way I will not wander away from you." Hiro slackened and looked up with a heavy frown. Again, he started to rub at his arms, but this time Baymax was there to notice. He shifted to hold both plaques in one hand and leaned forward with his now-free one to gently still the other's movements. Hiro was forced to stop, and he faltered, caught off-guard as he looked up to the robot, his expression crumbling just slightly.

For a second, Hiro was just silent and dismal, staring straight forward. He looked distracted, and after the pause stretched on even longer, anyone could almost assume that he had gotten distracted by something, or his thought process had shifted over completely. But after this lapse he took his arms away and took a small step backwards. He did a pointed turn, moving so that his side was to Baymax. "No," he huffed, looking away with a deep frown. "Just go."

Baymax searched his face a moment more. But he seemed to come up with nothing fairly quickly. He just turned obediently and followed instructions like he normally did. He started back the way he had come, not at all any quicker. Honey Lemon watched him backtrack, feeling a pang in her chest. She turned, starting to open her mouth and say something to Hiro. But once she twisted back to him, she realized that he was still avoiding anyone's stare. Currently, he had shifted to stare hollowly down the direction that led to the children's toys. It was clear by the way he was standing, that he was not in the mood to speak whatsoever.

So Honey Lemon decided that maybe prodding even more into the situation wasn't worth it. She just turned and gave him what he wanted— she didn't make a point to gawk in his direction. She didn't glance at him or make a single peep.

But despite that fact, she was still more than aware of the fact that Hiro turned, his eyes flickering over to watch Baymax as he left.

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They went and got the roller skates for Gogo, like Honey Lemon had suggested. And after that, they went to the book section and got out a cookbook that they could only hope that Wasabi didn't already have. Hiro offered, however dully, to buy a dress for Honey Lemon, and she had replied with a flurry of flustered giggles and reassurances that he didn't need to bother with a gift for her. Nevertheless, the blossom-printed attire had found a way to get into the cart regardless. Hiro didn't really see the point in leaving her out of it all, and it wasn't like he could use the money he had leftover in his hoodie pocket for anything he actually _wanted_.

An excess was an excess, and that was that.

Once they got those three, all that was left was getting something for Fred. But somehow, surprisingly enough, this was turning out to be the hardest present to bring to mind. Honey Lemon was standing at the head of the cart, absent-mindedly curling her hair around one finger. Hiro was sitting down on the floor on the right side of the cart, his legs drawn up to his chest and his head lowered down to rest on his knees. He stared emptily down the hallway of goods, ignoring the awkward stares of the people that passed and caught sight of Baymax, who was dutifully acting as his shadow. Apparently it was not every day of the year they saw a huge walking marshmallow right in the middle of their chain store.

After a second, Hiro shifted to look over at Honey Lemon, who perked at once with the change. "You don't know anything he would want?" he asked. All that Hiro would be able to tell after being with him this long was that he liked superhero stuff. 'Liked' would probably even be too lame of a word to use, really— it was more like he was completely obsessed with them. But that was just the thing; if they bought him some random action figure or comic book, he would probably already have it. And then what would be the point?

Surely if Honey Lemon was such a close friend of his, she would know at least one other thing he liked other than guys in tights? So when she shook her head with a useless shrug, Hiro was hardly able to hold back a groan of irritation. Instead he just shook his head and looked back forward. He tried to rifle through his brain for something they could get— _anything _at all. The sooner they did, the sooner they could get back to the house. But they had apparently hit a wall, and that meant they were left to laze around in the middle of the store, not at all sure what to do.

Baymax blinked, looking in between the two of them expectantly. Ever the one to always try and help, he bent over a little bit to catch Hiro's attention. "Perhaps Fred would enjoy the present of some interesting books. Or maybe he would like a medical dictionary— those are very interesting things to read, and very practical in terms of applying and widening your knowledge of the human body and its functions under stress." Hiro looked over at him with a scrunched nose, however, the robot only looked pleased with the contribution he had made. He looked expectantly down at the boy, appearing to wait eagerly for his reply.

But he only gave out a heavy sigh. "That's stuff that _you _would want, Baymax," he mumbled, looking back front. "Gift-giving doesn't work like that. It's got to be something that _they_ would want, not you." Baymax perked, looking up as he blinked rapidly. He seemed to be confused for a moment as he contemplated this concept. His shoulders drooped. "This was a stupid idea to begin with," he went on in a grumble. "What if we can't think of anything?" He huffed and dragged his foot over the tiled floor absent-mindedly.

"We'll find something!" Honey Lemon reassured him quickly. Still, she wore that broad smile on her face. "Let's see here— we could get him some movies! He loves to binge watch things; we could get him a whole set." As she talked, she became distracted, her eyes wandering down to the other end of the store. "Do you think there are some…movies around here that…that he might…?" She trailed off, her forehead creasing over in confusion. Hiro actually sat up a little bit more at the odd ending. He twisted around and looked back at her, his expression more than a little bit skeptical. Honey Lemon was mute now, still gawking down to the other half of the building.

"What?" Hiro asked, trying to follow her stare. He didn't see anything. It just looked like it had for the past hour and a half. It was still cramped and packed with people. It was still suffocating and stifling. There wasn't anything of importance, was there? He started to open his mouth and ask, but before he even had the chance to, he felt hands suddenly on his shoulders. He stiffened, his eyes widening as he was forced up to his feet. "What are you—!?"

He whirled around, ready to lash out at whoever had yanked him. But surprise cut him short as he realized that it was Honey Lemon. He didn't have the chance to demand what the heck she was thinking before he was abruptly shoved down the nearest aisle that branched inwards. "Go somewhere else!" she hissed, sounding suddenly frightened out of her skin. "Go— go down to the freezer section or something!"

"What!? Why!?" he demanded. "I just want to—!"

"Baymax, go with him!" Honey Lemon whispered harshly.

Baymax didn't waste a second before turning and grabbing Hiro's hand, in a gentle but firm manner. Despite the fact that Hiro tried to dig his heels into the ground, more out of habit than anything else, he found himself being tugged along against his will. Fighting against the robot's strength was pretty much pointless, he figured, but he still tried anyway. What was going on? He turned and looked over his shoulder, perplexed and a little bit angered even at the fact that he had been dismissed so easily. What was her problem!?

They walked down the row of home furnishings, but once they got to the end, Hiro snapped. He could hear Honey Lemon's voice echo down from where she had been left. Hiro frowned, registering the fact that it was high and panicky, in comparison to the way it usually was. Usually she was so collected and bubbly— to a fault, really. Right now, she sounded the opposite. At the thought, Hiro's eyebrows drew together awkwardly, and he quickly turned back to Baymax. "Baymax, wait!" he hissed through his clenched teeth. "Baymax, stop! I want to see what's going on!"

Baymax shook his head. He continued to drag Hiro along, in disregard of the other's stumbling and pulling. "Honey Lemon requested that I bring you to the freezer aisle," he reminded. "Perhaps we can find a gift for Fred there."

"No, we're not getting him frozen food!" Hiro growled. "I'll go to the freezer section, Baymax, I just want to go and see who Honey Lemon is talking to really fast! Calm down!" Baymax stopped with this, looking thoughtful as he came to a standstill. Hiro breathed out a huff once he was released, and he yanked his arm back to himself with a scowl. He twisted, looking back down the hall decisively. And after a brief pause, with one last glance back at Baymax, he turned and retraced the steps they had taken. Baymax stared after, his head tilting over to the side as he watched him go.

Thankfully enough, the robot seemed to come to the conclusion that, as long as time was not wasted, they would still go to the freezer section. Because, technically, that was all that Honey Lemon had asked for them to do. As long as he got Hiro to the designated store location, there was nothing to worry about. And if Hiro was to be given the opportunity of trust, he would be much more compliant when it came to following directions.

Hiro stuffed his hands down into his hoodie pocket. As he got closer, he could hear Honey Lemon's nervous giggle, and another voice that was calmer— softer. He figured that he should have recognized the other person involved in the conversation, but as he took his steps closer and closer, he couldn't figure it out. Was it one of the Regulars that came by the café every day? Was it an old teacher? He couldn't land on it, because Honey Lemon's anxious titter was back. "Aw, well— well, you know us! We're so…we're so _busy _nowadays, right? School's got us all in one huge knot! Haha!"

Hiro cringed just from hearing the attempt at nonchalance. He stopped at the end of the aisle and twisted, peeking out around the shelf to look at what was going on. Honey Lemon was facing him, and as soon as she caught sight of his head stick out, her eyes immediately got even bigger— if that was even possible. She tensed and went rigid, turning to clasp her hands tightly behind her back in the attempt to try and hide her growing tension. And quickly, to reduce the chance of giving him away, she turned her huge eyes back to the person that was in front of her.

Once she looked back at the other, Hiro did the same. But he almost wished that he hadn't. He wished that he hadn't, and he wished that he had just decided to take after Baymax and head to the freezer section. He wished that he had listened to Honey Lemon, because apparently she was actually more than qualified to shove him off. Because he knew the person that was standing across from Honey Lemon, with her back facing him. And the fact that he did not instantly recognize her voice when he had heard it was a fact that, unpredictably, he felt slap him clear across the face.

It was Aunt Cass.

It was a good thing Honey Lemon had not stayed in the position she had been when she had pushed Hiro away. The fact that she had moved so that the approaching woman was facing away probably told him more than he wanted to know about 'trust.' But there wasn't really a point in getting angry over a worry that was clearly coming across as founded. Currently, Aunt Cass was talking, and it took a second for Hiro to get over his initial shock to be able to actually register what was coming out of her mouth. "Oh, you're busy with school already?" she asked, sounding surprised. "Aren't you all still on Winter Break?"

Honey Lemon shook herself, clearing her throat and closing her eyes tightly for just the smallest of seconds before she recovered. Her wide smile splayed itself back on her face, and it was clear that she was just hoping against hope that the anxiousness in the beam would not be noticed. Because it was more than apparent to her; the emotion was enough for her to drown in. "Right— right, yeah! I mean— we're just trying to get ahead before the next semester starts, you know? So we're...we're all going down to the school's lab all the time and trying to get a head start. So…so we're pretty packed…"

Aunt Cass nodded. Hiro's eyes were wide and hollow as they bored emptily into her back. He didn't move a single muscle— somehow, he was rooted to the spot that he stood. He couldn't move even if he wanted to. "Oh— alright! That's fine! Well…maybe we can go out and celebrate together some other time? Because I really do want to make some dinner for you all. I feel like I owe you that much; especially Fred." Her voice got a tad quieter with this last part, affection oozing through every syllable that escaped her lips.

Honey Lemon smiled even bigger, and let loose yet another tense laugh. "Right! No, yeah, that totally makes sense! I'll get back to the others really soon. Yeah! I…yeah! It'll be great, I promise!" She hugged herself with an iron-clad grip. "I can get back to you really soon; I'll call you." She felt like she was being singed underneath the weight of Aunt Cass' stare, and it was all she could do to continue. "We could get together for one huge dinner; right! We'll have music! And— and food! And…dinner!"

Aunt Cass tilted her head to the side. "Is there something wrong?" she asked.

Hiro felt his eyes begin to burn, and he could see that his vision was going slightly askew. Colors warped and blended into others. Breathing was getting harder and harder to accomplish, and he found himself taking a small step back, into the cover that the store shelves provided. Honey Lemon's voice came back in hasty reply. "Nope! Nothing's wrong! I was just— just buying some Christmas presents! For my friends! And…and I bought this dress for me too…" She trailed off for a second before quickly spitting out: "So how are you!? Tell me! Tell me about…about yourself! What's going on?"

"Oh!" Hiro grimaced and looked down at the floor. He glanced over at Baymax, who was watching him intently, probably gauging every response that came from him. "Well, you know me! I just work at the bakery day in and day out! Not much else!" Hiro reached up and took off Tadashi's hat, his eyes huge pools of misery as he looked down at the thing blankly. "I got the email that Fred sent! And the picture of Hiro!"

Hiro went completely rigid, his eyes rounding out in something akin to pain as the words slammed into his gut. He looked back at little bit, but there was nothing to see. Just Aunt Cass' back, and Honey Lemon's ever-growing sense of awkwardness and apprehension. When Aunt Cass went on, her voice was gentle and kind. The smile that was apparently on her face could be heard in every aspect of her tone. "He looked so happy. And it was…it was so good to be able to see him _smile _again. I could hardly believe it! It's been so long…" Hiro's lower lip trembled just a little bit as he continued to duck his head, and after a brief pause, Aunt Cass ventured to ask: "Do you…do you know yet whether or not he read the letter I sent him?"

Honey Lemon frowned and shifted a little uncomfortably. "I…I'm not sure," she mumbled a bit hesitantly. "I would assume that…maybe by this point…"

Hiro was finished listening in. He kept his head down, biting down on his lower lip as he turned and went back to Baymax. He reached up and put Tadashi's hat back on his head, pulling up his hood at the same time. Baymax straightened at his return, even if Hiro didn't look up at him. Turning neatly, he started back up towards the freezer section— the haphazardly-thrown destination on Honey Lemon's part being followed to the T by the robot, when really, they could basically go anywhere. But Hiro wasn't about to put up a fight or complain.

He just heaved a silent sigh and followed the robot not two steps behind.

Though leaving his aunt behind was significantly harder to do this time around.

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"Do peaches taste good, Hiro?"

"I dunno. I guess so," Hiro replied, looking over at the frozen fruits blandly. "I don't think I've ever had a frozen one, though. Those are more for like…smoothies or something." He turned back to the freezer he was currently standing in front of. He leaned over and sighed on the glass, fogging it up so that he could trace his fingers through the spot. He drew a singular, lazy swirl, watching it fade away before he spoke again, not looking back at the robot, who was hovering close by. "They taste okay. They're not my favorite."

Baymax shuffled closer— Hiro could tell by that weird swishing noise. "What is your favorite?"

Hiro breathed on the glass a second time, doodling a star with this one. It was a little lopsided. "I dunno," he repeated bluntly. A pause before: "Bananas? I guess? If I had to pick one." He chewed on his lip a second before he mumbled: "Aunt Cass used to make these really good banana cupcakes. It was like…vanilla frosting and banana cake. She'd slice some up and pile them on top. It was really good."

Baymax tilted his head. "Do you miss your aunt, Hiro?"

He shrugged. "It doesn't matter if I do," he rasped. "Still wouldn't be able to go home."

He leaned forward again. This time he doodled a few lazy circles.

Baymax seemed confused. "But the sentiment is still there, is it not?" Hiro didn't reply. "Does what you feel and experience not matter just because there is nothing affected by it? Aren't _you _affected by it?"

He didn't say anything. He just drew a few zig-zagging lines.

Baymax said gently: "It is important to me if it is important to you." Hiro dropped his arm, letting it swing back down to his side. His eyes rounded out a little bit, and his chest tightened and caved in on itself. He didn't turn around or glance back at the robot. But that didn't seem very important to him, because he swept forward without any kind of reaction. "Your feelings are valid. Whether or not there is anything to be done about them."

He blinked. His face fell, and he didn't move for a long while.

Baymax stared at his back, simply waiting. Giving him the chance to collect himself.

And when he did, it probably wasn't all that Baymax was hoping to get out of it. The reply was simple, and it was soft, and it was nothing more than two words, separated from one another and quiet. He put his hands back into his pocket, hiding them away.

And without turning, he gave that simple mumble. "Thanks. Baymax."

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Honey Lemon was a bundle of nerves now. Despite the fact that Aunt Cass had said she was on her way out, she took each step with fervent glances in every direction. "Let's just get our stuff and let's go," she was saying in a rush. Hiro trailed after, eyeing her oddly as he wondered whether or not she was giving herself whiplash. "We can— we can get Fred…" She turned, her eyes catching on one of the stands of popular movies on the end of the electronics aisle. She leaned over and snatched up a set of one series, turning and tossing it into the cart. "We can get him this!" she declared.

Hiro's eyebrows shot up. He turned and leaned over the cart a little bit. His expression was easily astonished. "You want to buy him the complete collection of _Saw_?" he asked, more than incredulous. He shifted his shocked look over to Honey Lemon, who just blinked awkwardly. "You think that this is what he'll like the most?" he asked. "Out of everything in this entire store, and you want to buy all eight of the _Saw _movies? _This _franchise in particular? Really?"

"I-It's a classic!" she defended herself at once. "Don't you think?"

Hiro drew away from the cart with a roll of his eyes. "It's certainly _something_. I dunno if you can call it a _classic_. Maybe the_ first_ one is. _Loosely_." However, he fell silent as he picked up his walk again. He didn't really have any other better ideas when it came to presents. Superhero was where his slim knowledge ended, and Fred probably had all the superhero things anyway. If Honey Lemon figured that this was a good present, then whatever. He wasn't about to fight about anything.

They walked a little bit longer, heading for the cash registers. Hiro distracted himself by looking around, trying to find something to focus on that wasn't the awkwardness fizzling in between them. He also tried to ignore the stares that were thrown their way thanks to Baymax. Walking with a huge white robot wasn't exactly very insignificant. Come to think of it, they were lucky that Honey Lemon saw Aunt Cass before she saw them. Otherwise they wouldn't have had any chance.

But then again…well, that was always like Aunt Cass. Whenever she was upset or thinking about something, she was never really all that present. Hiro remembered one time she had been waiting for news back from a friend who had been admitted to the hospital. The morning before she had gotten feedback, she had burned two pieces of toast, she had set off the fire alarm, and Hiro had been forced to call her name seven times before she roused enough to listen. The memory came back with a sting, and he cleared his throat and pulled his sleeves down a little bit more so that his hands were covered.

They walked a few more aisles down. Then Honey Lemon turned to the side, her smile turning gentle as she surveyed Hiro. "Hey, Hiro?" she asked. "You know what I've noticed? Today?"

"No idea," Hiro hummed. "But I guess you'll tell me." His eyes got sidetracked on one of the shelves.

Honey Lemon laughed softly under her breath. "This is the most I've heard you talk in a single day. Usually you're so quiet and reserved. But I think today…"

Her voice trailed off— or, that was, Hiro lost track of it for a heartbeat. His steps slowed to a stop, and his face slowly fell, his eyes widening out. His attention went away from the girl in front of him. Instead, it was drawn over to the side, down the passageway that knocked the wind out of him, like a kick to the gut. It was the aisle that kids were never allowed down— paradoxically, it was the aisle that was currently screaming at Hiro with enough volume to make him want to flinch away.

Looking at the shelves that branched away in front of him, he was suddenly hit over the head with the understanding that it had been _so long. So _long. He was chilled to the bone, and every single one of his joints were quickly locked tight as he stared dismally at the shelves of alcohol glasses and wine boxes. The hallway that held the liquor and the whiskey and the malts, and…and just _everything_ imaginable, it seemed.

The bottles were stacked and arranged in a way that made it seem as if the stock was never-ending— like it went on forever, despite the fact that just beyond it, people were milling about. But it didn't matter that it didn't go on for forever; Hiro would take the smallest amount that was offered to him. Just looking at the first few that were the closest to him, he found that his throat immediately ran dry and scratchy. He felt sick, his stomach folding in on itself as his nails dugs down into his palms, where they were hidden in his jacket.

_Go ahead and give it a try— you might actually offer a smile or two._

He remembered the wonderfully-numbing feeling that he always got whenever he used to drink whatever Redhead had given him. It was why he kept going back. It was why _everything _had happened, really. He remembered the way that it burned as it went down, and yet at the same time had made everything much easier to swallow. He shifted his weight from foot to foot, trying to find a way to take in air through the lump that was now lodged thick in his windpipe.

He remembered all of it— by now, it was all he wanted to remember. The blackness that would ring around his vision and make everything else seem muted and not as hurtful. The headache that would seat itself behind his eyes the day after to remind him that somehow, he could still feel something concrete. He hadn't thought about it yet; not today, anyway. But now it was suddenly hitting him over his head. So for a while, he could only gawk and stare, his eyes empty and hollow at the sight that was leering back at him. At the sight that was suddenly so close to him. So close that, if he wanted to, he might be able to reach out and touch the glass that, before, had offered him the only sort of comfort that worked.

Ahead, Honey Lemon had walked a few paces ahead, having not realized that Hiro had stopped following her. Baymax noticed first, and turned back with a small perk. She was left to follow suit, a small frown replacing her grin at the sight that met her. Initially, she had just expected that something innocent had caught Hiro's attention like a worm on a hook. Maybe a better gift for Fred, because if she was being honest, she would admit that if she wasn't so frightened of Aunt Cass doubling back, she would have spent more time finding a present for him. A present that he would probably like more than the movie set she had just randomly grabbed.

She couldn't be blamed, could she? Maybe for coming here in the first place, maybe. But certainly not for the present. When Hiro had asked her if they could go out – when he had put forth the initiative himself to actually do something – she had just been far too over the moon. She just hadn't had the foresight to try and hold a rational thought over it all. The whole plan could have fallen apart right there, if Aunt Cass had seen him sitting behind that shopping cart. They had to get out of here quickly, just in case.

But all of a sudden…

Honey Lemon turned and glanced down the line of shelves, her stomach dropping immediately as the realization dawned over her. Quickly, she stepped away from the cart, her hands wringing together in a sense of nervousness. "Hiro?" It was hard to mistake the fright that was now leaking in her voice. Just like it was hard to mistake the hunger and suffering that darkened Hiro's eyes like shadows. He didn't react to her call; he wasn't even blinking as he looked at the alcohol. It was as if he was having a staring contest, trying to see whether or not he could beat the inanimate objects.

Even if it wasn't true, the thought was easier to digest than what was really drawing his stare.

She drew herself up a little bit, suddenly finding herself realizing that this was another hiccup she didn't think about. How could she have been so _stupid_!? Why had she even thought about this in the first place?! This was bad— this was really bad! "Hiro." His name was much louder this time as Honey Lemon tried to force herself to remain calm and get him to look away. If she could just get him to look away, then she might be able to… "Hiro!"

He roused just slightly. Just enough to blink a few times. For the briefest of seconds, Honey Lemon thought that she could see extreme pain flicker across his face— enough sorrow and yearning to fill each ocean and still have some leftover to wallow in. It took Honey Lemon's breath away, and she stopped short, frozen mid-reach towards her friend. Sometimes she forgot. Today had been…today had gone so well. In so many ways. But… "Hiro…" she tried weakly. "We've got to go."

Still, the fourteen-year-old was unresponsive. He could have been a statue, for all anyone could tell.

Baymax walked back over, obviously more than alert with this new situation. "Hiro?" he asked, his voice much more controlled in comparison to Honey Lemon's. "This is not healthy for you and your mental state of mind. We need to distance ourselves from this, otherwise you will lose control of yourself and all that you have done in your recovery." He passed Honey Lemon and reached over, starting to put a hand down on Hiro's shoulder. "You are better than this," he reassured, Honey Lemon's mouth slightly open in shock as she watched. "And we have to go home now."

Hiro blinked slowly. Again.

Honey Lemon wilted, her eyebrows pulling together as she waited tensely.

It felt like ages passed, with them all standing there, completely silent. Though surely it couldn't have bene more than a few seconds— maybe ten at the most. Right? However long it was, and to whatever it stretched to, every moment felt like it was dragging across Honey Lemon's skin. She started to drew herself together, and find enough strength in order to speak— in order to say something that was halfway decent. Something that could hopefully help this situation more than she had already hurt it.

But she didn't get the chance to.

It was a sharp intake of breath. One that was rushed, and almost punctured. It was more of a gasp than anything else, and it made Honey Lemon jump nearly out of her skin. Hiro turned, jerking to the right harshly. He seemed to get a little bit smaller, as if he was tucking into himself. And as he shifted, he ducked his head down and started to walk. His steps were rushed; Honey Lemon had to hop out of the way to avoid being plowed through.

Both Baymax and Honey Lemon turned and watched as Hiro trudged back to the cart. He reached over, more or less taking the cart in his hands with a hefty slap. Everything about his posture made it clear that he had taken a few steps backwards in terms of his attitude. He was stiff and rigid— not relaxed like he had been before. The new attitude seemed to spark off of him like electricity. But…but he was _still_ walking away from the aisle. Honey Lemon's arms slacked down to her sides, her eyes widening a little bit as she straightened. Her eyes followed his every move.

When he spoke, his voice was much angrier than it had been a few moments ago. It was clipped and short— more resembling the way he talked at the house, before the knife incident. He didn't even look back at the two of them, either. He just kept walking. Straight towards the cash register. His muffled grumble coming out with a simple: "He's not going to like those movies."

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"_Oh my God_!" The screech probably echoed around the entire house. Hiro flinched away from it. Any reaction he could have fathomed was not this one. _Clearly _not this one. Fred was up on his feet, hopping from one to the other, waving the box set around like it was some kind of trophy. The others were grinning widely at the reaction. Hiro, on the other hand, rolled his eyes wearily and turned away. This was the fourth large reaction, hopefully the last, and somehow the most impressed.

It turned out Wasabi had not had the book they bought, and he was more than enthused with the idea of having new treats to whip up. Honey Lemon had acted as if she'd had no idea that she was getting a dress, and had fawned over it for about five minutes. And now Fred was leaping around as if he'd won the lottery. Even Baymax seemed confused, as he tilted his head to the side. Though that was probably mostly due to the fact that he didn't know what was going on in general. Meshing the two holidays of Christmas and New Year's was apparently too much. Just an hour ago, he had tried to 'leave out a glass of juice for Santa Claus.'

"This is awesome!" Fred cheered, ignoring Hiro's reaction. "Aw, man! I haven't seen the whole series! We can totally watch all of these! We can have a super awesome movie night! Each movie, like: bam, bam, bam!" He fell into a fit of laughter, before he turned and caught sight of Hiro. He was still sitting down on the ground, curled close to himself, and something seemed to register in the back of Fred's mind. He grinned, his expression a little wary. "I mean— later, of course. Not right now." Hiro's expression flashed just a little bit, but Fred didn't react to that, either. He just kept that smile on his face, striding forward so that he could lean down.

"Thanks for the present, man! You really didn't have to get me anything." He reached over and curled his fingers down into a fist, leaving his hand hanging in the air between them. Hiro looked at the offer as if it was foreign to him, despite the fact that it most definitely wasn't. Baymax was watching intently, seeming interested at the exchange. Hiro stared for a long moment, feeling everyone's eyes on him the longer he waited.

Eventually, he lifted up one corner of his lip in the attempt at a smile. It came across as more than artificial, but artificial was better than nothing. "It was Honey Lemon's idea," he replied, the girl smiling a little bit where she was sitting by the tree. His motions listless, Hiro dragged up one arm and made a fist as well, lightly tapping Fred's own. The return wasn't much in hindsight; it was barely anything at all. But Fred's smile seemed to grow ten times bigger with it, and once Hiro let his arm fall back down to the ground, it almost felt as if his knuckles were stinging.

Fred turned to put the movies away somewhere and find the remote. At the moment, they were just listening to Christmas music from Fred's phone again. Right now, it was some version of 'All I Want for Christmas is You' that Hiro didn't really care enough to pay attention to. They had opened presents and hung out as if it was any other regular Christmas night. As if it wasn't actually New Year's, and as if they really were all together because they actually _wanted _to be, and not because the youngest of them was forced to.

Currently, Hiro was sitting against the couch, drawn up into himself as if he was cold. He was wearing his same jacket, the hood drawn up over his head as he rested his head down. Baymax was sitting by him, and after the first few minutes or so of his hovering, Hiro had resigned himself to it. There was a movie on in the background— some Rudolph thing. They had all eaten candy canes earlier, though Hiro's was still mostly unfinished. They had passed the time with a trivia game, too. It was actually pretty fun. Hiro didn't win, of course— apparently when it came to Disney movies, Honey Lemon was the expert.

It wasn't the worst night they'd had here.

It was actually pretty okay.

"Let's switch on that Times Square!" Fred cheered, smiling from ear to ear now as he turned on the TV. It was getting close, Hiro realized, with a small glance to the clock. The next year would start pretty soon. "Get that countdown goin'!"

Wasabi leaned over, nudging Hiro gently. "You excited for this next year?" he asked.

Hiro glanced his way. He shrugged one shoulder. "Dunno," he sighed. "I guess it…can't be any worse than this year, right?" The joke fell a little bit short, but he didn't really mind it. He was lucky a joke even came out in the first place. Wasabi's smile grew a little pained with the comment, and Hiro gave him yet another lift of the shoulders in reply. He turned back to the TV, seeing that Fred had indeed pulled up the shot of the celebrities, and that huge crystal ball that was getting lower and lower.

His forehead creased a little bit. "It's the same every year," he pointed out. Wasabi sat up a bit more as he spoke. He seemed a little bit confused. So Hiro nodded towards the screen and went on. "This thing. It's the same every year. Nothing about it really changes. The same kind of groups come up to sing the same kind of songs. The ball drops in exactly the same way, too. But we watch it every year." He tightened his hold around his shins.

Wasabi seemed lost on what he sound say in reaction. He pursed his lips a little bit, thinking it over. Then he shook his head aimlessly. "Tradition, I guess," he laughed. "But it's fun, isn't it? Every holiday is traditional. We do it every year, but it never gets old, just because we like doing it."

Hiro blinked and then looked back at the television. He coughed in the back of his throat and then looked back at Wasabi. His eyebrows rose, and his features drew into a sort of resigned stare. "But isn't it weird?" he mused. "To keep going on with tradition even though so much has changed?" He wilted now, and Wasabi was doing his best not to do the same and follow suit. Hiro shook his head, feeling like his movements were on some sort of repeat. "Never mind. Don't worry about it." He looked back at the TV, this time for the final time. He shrugged for what felt like the millionth time. "It's nothing. I'm just…thinking out loud."

Wasabi frowned a little bit, trying to figure out what to say. But Gogo was standing up from the floor now, and she was grabbing tight to Honey Lemon, who looked near ready to burst with excitement. "The countdown! The countdown will start soon!" Gogo chirped, unusually upbeat for this kind of thing. She rushed over and stooped down, grabbing hold of Wasabi's hands and hoisting him up. "Everyone's got to stand up! C'mon! Don't be slackers!"

Fred was rushing back from the kitchen, trying to juggle a tray loaded with sparkling grape juice. The normal glasses of champagne, of course, was vehemently opposed in all respects. But grape juice was just as good, if not better, and when going out to buy it all, Fred and Gogo had decided that it wouldn't be looked at too much. Right now, Fred was just looking forward to when his staff would get back from their dismissal he had issues for 'the holidays.' It was much easier to do things when you had staff to do it for you, after all. And now that he had crafted up the excuse for Hiro's presence, there wasn't any more apprehension to stop him from being eager.

"We've got some drinks!" Fred chirped. Hiro turned, doing a double take. But he huffed in irritation when he saw what apparently qualified as 'drinks.' But it was a stupid hope to begin with, and he sighed it away. Fred reached over and offered him one of the tall glasses. "Don't drink it until countdown, though!" he ordered. "It's against the rules! Honey Lemon! Get your drink! C'mon, I don't have all year! We're running out of time!"

Honey Lemon giggled, hopping over. Gogo veered in Hiro's direction and grabbed hold of his hand, being careful to avoid the bandages that were still covering his arms. "Get up! Get up!" she demanded. Hiro rolled his eyes, blowing out his cheeks as he wore an irritated scowl. But Gogo dragged him up to his feet regardless. Then she shot him a crooked grin. "Look at you!" He focused in on his glass, and the tiny bubbles that were rising up to pop on the surface of his drink. But she wasn't deterred by the apparent lack of concern. "Dragged yourself all the way to the end of the year!"

Baymax stood up as well, making sure that he was still in proximity to his patient.

Hiro offered yet another weak smile. "Yeah. I guess."

"Hey." He looked up at the different tone of voice. And sure enough, her smile was wiped off completely. She was looking at him in a level manner, her expression solemn as she looked him over. She softened a bit and reached over to rub his shoulder. "I'm proud of you," she murmured gently. Hiro stopped short a little bit, caught off-guard by the change. So she just gave him a small nod. "We all are." Hiro didn't react at first. She leaned over and tapped her glass against his, with a small 'clink.' "So here's to you."

He was still too surprised for a heartbeat. But then a small smile wormed its way onto his face.

Some part of it – even if a little part of it – was actually genuine.

"_Here it is_!" Wasabi shouted, snapping both of them back to attention. They turned, seeing that the ball was only a few feet away from the end of its descent. Hiro reached up to rub at his eyes, stifling a yawn as everyone else in the room eagerly clustered around him. Gogo's hold on his shoulder tightened in excitement, and Honey Lemon grabbed at his arm as she hopped up and down. He had to fight to keep his balance, in the end of it all. But Wasabi and Fred clustered close as well, and even Baymax shuffled into the throng. Hiro looked up at the celling, trying not to feel frustrated at the crowding.

"Ready!?" Fred asked wildly.

The ball was getting nearer and nearer to the ground. Anticipation was thick in the air, and even Hiro seemed a little bit interested as he focused in on the TV. And around him, everyone started to loudly count down the seconds until 2014 officially turned into 2015. "_Five…four…three…two…one_!" The last word was closely followed with a resounding cheer, and a rush of confetti to cover the view on the other side of the screen in front of them. Hiro jumped as everyone turned to tap his juice glass, and he rushed to return the gesture as well as he could with all of them clambering at once.

"Happy New Year, Hiro!" Honey Lemon chirped as she did cheers with him. He offered her a frazzled grin and a quick nod.

"Happy New Year, Little Man!" Wasabi echoed, tapping his drink and reaching out to tousle his hair.

Hiro staggered a bit to the side, trying to fight a small smile by this point.

"2015 will be our _year_, dude!" Fred asserted. "Heck to the _yeah_!"

Gogo mimicked the others. "It's already lookin' better, huh!?" she asked eagerly.

Hiro nodded in accordance.

Baymax wormed his way forward. He looked Hiro up and down once. Then tilted his head to the side. "I apologize," he said, Hiro looking at him a little oddly. Baymax pointed at Hiro's drink. "I do not have a similar glass that I can touch against yours, in what I assume is the required motion during a moment like this," he confessed. Hiro looked at the juice and then back to him, his forehead creased. "Please forgive me." He went on before Hiro could get anything out. "However, I will try my best to fit in." He reached over and simply poked the cup with one finger. He closed his eyes tightly, and Hiro could have sworn that he was smiling. "Happy New Year, Hiro."

Fred rushed over and grabbed Wasabi's cookbook. "_Let's make some cupcakes_!" he screeched at the top of his lungs. "_Let's get down and dirty with those pots and pans! It's 2015_!"

He rushed towards the kitchen, Wasabi running close behind. "You don't need a pot to make cupcakes, Fred!" he snapped. "Give me back my present! We're not going to make cupcakes, anyway! This situation _obviously _calls for a soufflé! Give me that back, you don't know anything! You're completely unprepared for this _entire _ordeal!" But Fred just held the book out of reach, running away from his friend and hopping over the couch to try and put a barrier in between them.

Gogo turned, making for the stereo. "No more Christmas music!" If Hiro didn't know any better, he would have thought that she was relieved. Which could be the case, probably. By now, most people had quit listening to 'Run Run Rudolph.' They were just way behind the learning curve at the moment. "Let's turn on something better!"

Honey Lemon leaned over and elbowed Hiro with a smile. "I'm going to go and change into my new dress!" she said, grinning. "It'll look so cute!" Before Hiro even had a chance to say anything she was gone. He watched her rush down the hall, grabbing up the outfit as she skipped away.

His eyes tracked her briefly before he looked back at Gogo. She was flipping through the radio, her lips pursed in thought. Wasabi was currently rushing at Fred, throwing himself forward to tackle him to the ground. All the while Fred was yelling about 2015. He blinked and looked back down at his drink, raising the glass to his lips and taking a small sip. It felt fizzy going down, and it actually tasted pretty good. His small smile came back, his lips curling up pretty much against his will. He let out a small sigh and wriggled his free hand back down into his hoodie pocket. "Happy New Year, Baymax," he replied.

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The soufflé was baking in the oven. So were the cupcakes, though. They were all waiting in the kitchen, making conversation as the room got to smell sweeter and sweeter. Mostly it was the group of friends talking, and Hiro coined in a small laugh or a smile every so often. It was pretty much all that was expected of him, really. But eventually there was a small lull in the conversation. Everyone got quiet, and they exchanged looks of expectation. Hiro tried to bypass the awkwardness and look off to the side. But he was still more than aware of it all.

"Hiro?" He was forced to turn, rubbing at his eyes and trying to ignore how tired he felt as he turned over to Gogo. She was shifting from foot to foot, suddenly looking nervous now as she held something in her hands. A box, Hiro realized. A present— it was wrapped and topped with a bow. She hesitantly reached out and placed it on the counter in front of him. She offered him a smile. "We all um…well, we got you something. For Christmas."

He looked at it tiredly. "It's too late, now. We ended Christmas like twenty minutes ago."

Honey Lemon leaned over the counter a bit. "Oh, go ahead and open it," she pleaded.

He eyed it for a few more moment, unsure. But eventually he gave in, seeing that everyone was now paying attention exclusively to him. He tugged it closer and peeled back the paper, setting the trash aside, which Baymax picked up immediately to handle. Hiro wasn't really about to complain for that one. He just focused on the gift, managing to get it open and then wriggling off the top of the cardboard. He leaned over, caught off-guard at the thing that stared back at him.

"Do you like it?" Honey Lemon asked.

"We got the right size and everything," Fred coined.

He reached in and pulled it out. There was no mistaking the logo that stared back at him. It was what was on every single thing that had to do with the San Fransokyo Institute of Technology. The hoodie was completely blue, with that same sign in the middle of it— the same sign that had been on the envelope he had torn to shreds. At first, he was too stupefied to say anything; he just stared at it blankly. But then Wasabi gave a small mumble of: "There's something underneath it. You don't have to keep it if you don't want it. We just found it lying around."

Hiro put the hoodie aside and reached back into the box. He drew out a blank lanyard. And on the end of the necklace, hung a small photo ID. A student ID. Tadashi's. In the little window to the left, there his brother stood, beaming from ear to ear with enough positivity to make a lightbulb snap on. And on it had all the information about his brother. His name, and his age. His intended major. The school he went to. It had the same logo on it, too. Both things did. Of course they did; why wouldn't they?

He was silent for some time. He just stared at it. He wasn't sure what else to do. Nobody else was sure either, because they were looking at him with mirrored expressions. If a pin was dropped, it would have created a sound the equivalent to an explosion. He looked wearily from the tag, to the hoodie, trying to piece it all together. Maybe that's what he was doing— he wasn't even sure himself. At his silence, Baymax leaned a bit closer. "Are you alright, Hiro?" he asked.

"If you don't want them, that's alright," Honey Lemon murmured. "We just thought that…"

"It might have been a bad idea," Gogo offered weakly. "We were just trying to—"

"I…I, uh—" Hiro couldn't finish a complete sentence. He pushed away from the counter and took in a quick breath, noticing that his voice was a little bit more clogged when he spoke again. "I, uh…I think I'm tired," he mumbled. The groups' faces fell at this, but nobody objected. It was a shot in the dark to begin with, and they were suddenly finding themselves hitting a wall. Hiro reached up to scrub quickly at his eyes. "Thank you, but I…I think…yeah, I think I'm going to go to bed."

"We can take it away if you want, Hiro," Wasabi offered softly, already making for the box.

"No, no, I don't—" Hiro seemed a cross between wildly frustrated, and wildly upset. He just shook his head again. "Leave it there. I just— I'm just going to go to bed." He turned, Baymax already more than willing to follow. Hugging himself tightly, he started to rush out of the kitchen, suddenly finding it stifling and small. The others watched him, wanting to go after him, but knowing that there wasn't much of a point. Not if they wanted to get anywhere. Though the guilt that was on their faces was indescribable— it was almost palpable.

Hiro paused at the exit of the kitchen. He kept his back to everyone behind him, but, looking dismally down at the floor, he offered a soft: "Happy New Year."

They all chorused a soft: "Happy New Year."

But Hiro was already walking away.

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Baymax was staring at him intently, very clearly concerned about the situation. But Hiro had told him that it would be fine, and he was planning on keeping his word. Call it a 'New Year's Resolution' or something. He just wanted to do it once. Just once. At least for tonight. And it wasn't like he was going to get caught or anything— he knew how to cover himself up. He'd done it at least five times in the past. Pretty much everyone knew how to disguise your number so it wouldn't show.

The only problem that he was going to run into was whether or not she would pick up in the first place. After all, it was like one in the morning, and he would just show up as some blank caller. But somehow, some part of him wouldn't be able to calm down unless he at least tried. He _had _to try. Because at this point, he wasn't sure what else was going to be able to help him. He wasn't even sure if _this _would help him. It might just drag him down even further into this suffocating hole.

But it was late, and he was tired, and he was sad, and he was stressed out.

He had gotten Baymax to agree to it, at least.

A little funny, considering_ he_ wasn't even convinced _himself_, yet.

He lifted the phone to his ear, feeling bad for nicking it on the way back to his room. As customary, he drew his knees up to his chest to curl up tight. He tried to ignore Baymax's stare and focus solely on the ringing on the other end. But listening to each shrill ring made his heart beat faster and faster against his chest. He could hear the blood roaring in his ears, and his grip on his ankles tightened ever so slightly. The phone kept ringing and ringing, and he was starting to realize that she just wasn't about to answer. He could already feel his heart constricting, and his eyes started to fill up with stinging water.

When suddenly…

"Hello?"

Hiro let out a breath he hadn't realized he'd been holding. It was _her_. It was her voice again. She sounded tired, and her letters seemed all slurred. He had probably woken her up. But it was Aunt Cass' voice; the same as he had heard the other day. He immediately slouched over, all the tension releasing from his body. His other arm whipped up, and he pulled the phone tight to his ear with both hands. His heart still hadn't calmed down; in fact, it had only gotten worse.

Aunt Cass spoke again, sounding frustrated. "Hello?"

Hiro closed his eyes tightly, ducking his head down. He barely held back a pathetic sniff.

"Who is this?"

_I don't know._ He bit the words back before they could worm their way out of his mouth.

She tried one last time. "_Hello_!? It's one in the morning!"

Hiro chewed down on his lower lip. His shoulders shook, as did his hands.

There was a frustrated sigh on the other line.

And then a small click.

She hung up.

Hiro was left to sit in the silence, the phone still pressed right up against his face, with not a millimeter's space. His eyes were wide as they stared across at the other end of the room. His stomach felt like it was filled with lead, and he didn't move a single muscle. Baymax leaned forward a bit, and he might have said something— Hiro wasn't sure. He wasn't listening, or paying attention. He just listened to the silence that was now his conversation partner. Leaning over and pressing his hoodie sleeve against his eyes, which quickly grew wet with tears. And pretty soon, he was left to cringe deeply at the sound of the dial tone.

He hadn't gotten caught.

No.

And now that the coast was clear, and he didn't have to hold anything back, Hiro shakily whispered the thing that had been slowly eating at him from the inside, out. "I don't hate you…"

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A/N: I hope that paid off for the small lapse. Please do not take my absence as a sign of a lack of ideas. I still have a lot planned for this story, and a twist that will come up very soon, hopefully. So I can't wait to get into that. My schedule just makes it hard to accomplish the feat of getting out chapters over and over again, and I regret that, as I hold this very personal story close to my heart. I will try and be better.

I can't wait to hear your thoughts on it!

And I hope that I can get another update out before then, but I'm making a note on all my stories: July 30th to August 3rd I will be away at Disneyworld, and I will not have time this trip to update. So hopefully I will be back before then, but just in case.

Thank you if you're still sticking with this story! It truly means a lot!

By the way, can anyone guess the movies I recently saw all the way through for the first time? Aw, geez. There are no words.

(Haha, I made a pun back there without meaning to.)


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